The Best Laid Plans
by sharkgeek
Summary: San goes to sort out Seb, but things fall apart after the song. She tries to hide what happened, but Britt knows something is up, & forces San to talk to her & work through it. Brittana   Unholy Trinity/Sancedes/Santina friendships. Please read warnings
1. Chapter 1

This is a fill of a prompt sent to me by **Demon ninja of the leaf**:

Santana shouldn't have confronted Sebastian on her own.  
>Sebastian is willing to do anything to win nationals and bring down ND, so he<br>rapes or seriously injures one of their strongest singers.

Bonus: the cellist are in on it  
>he doesn't find the tape recorder<br>WARBLERS TO THE RESCUE  
>tie in to Brittany's alien invasion comment and she helps Santana through<br>this.

This contains mentions of self harm and obvious mentions/reference/some discriptions of rape, so if those are triggers for you, please don't read!

I had to split the episode dialogue for this to fit, but I haven't changed it, just made it so the Warblers entered a little later than they do in the episode, so everything is canon, up to the 'Micheal' ep.

Oh, also, I used a song in this, and normally I just skip over the lyrics of the songs, and you can completely do that, it will still make sense, but it will make _more _sense if you read the lyrics ''cos I use the lyrics to…prompt her thoughts and I don't directly refer to the lyrics. Also, I leave a lot of the interpretation up to the reader, because I have interpreted the song a specific way for both Santana's situation, and her relationship with Brittany, so again, I haven't directly referred to the lyrics, more Santana's reaction to them.

Reviews would be much apprecited, and I hope you injoy this, although, maybe I hope you feel that this affects you, as this first part is heavy on the angst. I have this all planned out and many section written, so hopefully it won't take me too long to update.

Thanks!

* * *

><p>I remember pain; so, so much pain. The kind of pain that after a while, your body forgets <em>is <em>pain, because you can't remember feeling anything different.

I remember I heard the material of my dress tear and felt my thighs exposed, then the first bite on the base of my neck above the still closed blazer, and my body became numb. Numb like all the other times I had slept with guys in order to convince myself that Brittany was just a phase. But this wasn't like all the other times; I wasn't in control this time. I wasn't doing this in an effort to be who I thought I needed to be this time.

This time there was pain. Not a physical pain, it was like…mental, emotional pain.

Humiliation.

Loss of control.

Shame.

Self disgust.

Blame.

And it was so much worse.

* * *

><p>"I was better." It was statement. Fuelled by adrenaline and power and the knowledge that I <em>was<em> better. The best feeling in the word.

"You weren't even close!" He tried to dismiss me easily, but his voice betrayed his frustration, knowing he had been beaten.

"I was better!" I repeated. There was no way I was letting him get the last word in, let alone let him think that I agreed with him.

Suddenly he halted and twisted towards me, anger making his face utterly ugly. It was so quick I only just stopped myself before colliding into him, our bodies practically touching.

He laughed and pushed me. I pushed back. Hard; and walked forwards, expecting him to back off. But instead he pulled at the lapels of my blazer and half lifted half shoved me backwards, my legs hitting the chair my body landing sprawled across it, fedora flying off somewhere to my left when I put my hand out in an attempt to steady myself.

He had somehow ended right next to me and wobbled the back of the chair causing me to shift and roll almost off the chair, the unexpected weight and pressure on my wrist and hand on the floor caused white hot pain to shoot through my entire arm.

I had twisted it.

But it was soon the last of my worries.

"Get up. Now." I was still fighting him, determined to show him no weakness, so I stood, pulling my blazer straight. The hot, sticky, heavy plastic of the recorder pressing against the underside of my breast a grounding comfort whilst I pushed my hair over my shoulders. He strode purposefully towards me, and suddenly the wall was behind me and my arms were reaching above my head towards the ceiling, trapped by one of his own surprisingly smooth hands. Tendrils of pain working their way down my arm, but I couldn't let him see he was causing me pain.

His other hand hovered over my chest for a few seconds, but I felt his body…shudder and his face contort, repulsed by the idea of touching something so obvious feminine. He pressed it against my hip instead, where the tear in my dress stopped.

"I bet you've let loads of guys pin you like this right? Spic slut." I looked into his eyes and refused to make a sound.

I think.

I hope.

I think I still had enough fight in me to be stubborn and not let him know that inside I was screaming, begging for him to let me go. For him to stop.

Instead I tried to act angry, to show him he hadn't won. "Get off me." My heart rate was increasing rapidly, anticipating what was going to happen. "Now. Let me go!" He just pressed his body harder against mine and the coldness in his eyes was terrifying. "Please. I don't want this."

I think my voice sounded broken.

I think I felt helpless.

I think he had started to win.

He kept my blazer closed and my dress on, his access made easier by the tear he had caused. He pulled my underwear to the side as two; maybe three fingers were used, forced deep.

His hand didn't move, instead he bit at my neck again, this time until the skin tore and blood welled to the surface, then again, slightly lower. He moved his head up and smiled at me, showing me the small reddish smears over his front teeth. He spat on the floor, the splat of it against the polished wooden floor hit my ears like it was more than just a mouthful of spit and blood. "Wouldn't want to swallow any of that. Don't know where you've been. What nasty, spic, whore disease you may have." He slammed the hands above my head against the wall, the hand between my legs still not moving.

I think I cried out in pain.

Then sudden movement, the sleeve of his blazer pulling at the skin of my thigh. I think I tried to move my legs, to push him away, but it just caused the burning friction of his sleeve intensify and my body slumped in defeat.

There was an angry red mark there for a week. I kept itching at it, pulling at the skin, pinching it between my fingers to remind myself.

To punish myself maybe.

I remember his breathing increasing, but not from arousal, there was no expected hardness pressing into my leg and I could hear him whispering every now and then "Imagine its Blaine. Imagine it's some cute, preppy guy beneath me. It's Blaine. Blaine."

Another sound escaped my throat. It could have been a whimper, I don't remember, but I remember him laughing at me, and a slight pressure in his trousers.

"Wouldn't have thought you could feel anything down there anymore. Or that you would care. It's it pity I'm gay, then I could _really _hurt you. Breaking one of New Directions members for ever would be a fine moment. No way you would be getting up on that stage in some stupid short, sparkly dress huh?" Another hard thrust, another scrap of his sleeve and increasing pressure against my thigh, another traitorous sound from my throat. "Then, one member down, you wouldn't have enough to compete. And I'm sure I could persuade a couple of others to get lost too, just in case. Maybe I could try this out again, I'm sure that pretty little blonde thing Blaine told me you're now fucking would be more than willing to spread her legs."

Another thrust.

"No, please, not her." Weak. Broken. Pathetic. A breathless laugh right next to my ear.

"Then again, she's so stupid, and even more of a slut than you, so I'm not sure she would notice." Another thrust.

The grip on my wrists increased and I think I screamed because the next thing I heard was a banging on the doors to my right.

"Sebastian? What's going on? Are you guys okay? We can't hear music anymore and I thought I heard someone scream." He must have locked the doors, because I could hear the handle and lock rattle, could see the door buckle within the frame, but it didn't open.

He pulled away from me as if burnt and wiped his fingers on the bottom of my dress, face disgusted. My hands were roughly pulled down – still held above my head, forgotten – and walked away a few steps. He turned back towards me, face once again controlled, a smug smile twisting his lips.

"I was going to get Armand and Louis to finish you, let them have some fun." His head, already tilted at a patronising angle, twisted towards the cellists, still in the room and their eyes shinning with delight. "But, lucky for you, my team mates," his voice turned harsh, clawing at my ears, "are nosey and impatient, and have spoilt my, uh, grand finale." His hands twisted flamboyantly, then he pulled the cuffs of his shirt downwards so a clean white strip encircled his wrists and his back straightened.

I felt a sticky, wet blob on my face and heard the click of his heels as he walked towards the door.

Spit.

He _spat _on me.

I wanted to be disgusted by this, feel angry, but all I could feel was that I deserved it as I pulled at my ruined dress and turned towards the now opened doors.

As if drawing strength from the protection afforded by the rest of The Warblers, a spark of anger coursed through my body, enough to allow me to stand up straight and stride towards him.

"I was better." I repeated, strength back in my voice but not enough for it to sound convincing in my ears, and my legs were trembling and my stomach was threatening to bring up my lunch. "Now tell me what you put in that slushie!" Yes. My voice was even stronger.

Better.

Focus on the reason I came here in the first place, to get back at Sebastian, make sure Blaine gets justice and New Directions gain even more strength against The Warblers. I could pretend what just happened…hadn't; if I just. Kept. Focused.

"Rock salt." I saw his shoulder rise in a half hearted shrug "But its okay." He said it so nonchalantly, it only increased my anger. Yeah, much better, anger. I needed this anger.

"Why is it okay? I just told you Blaine has to have surgery." I almost yelled, I couldn't believe how he was acting, even some of the other Warblers looked uneasy, and I noticed some of them were shuffling around, but I couldn't see what they were doing.

"It's okay, because I didn't put anything in this one." I didn't even have time to react, he was standing so close to me and the cold slushie slapped against my skin. It covered the lower half of my face looking like some over enthusiastic nose bleed from a 1960's horror movie. It dripped down onto my chest, down the front of my dress, reminding me of what he had just done to me.

Suddenly the anger dissipated, and a horrible chill passed down my spine, the feeling of numbness returning spreading across the synapses of my neurons, transported through my veins.

A few smothered laughs wafted through the room as they slowly filed out, leaving just Trent and Sebastian.

"Nice choice of song by the way. Very," Sebastian paused dramatically; head tilted, fingers outstretched towards me and a smug smile showing his front teeth. "Appropriate for what went…down." His eyes flickered to the tear at my dress, and suddenly I felt sick again. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to meet his eyes when they returned to my face. "And what can happen again if I need it to. I hear blondes are more fun anyway."

My fists clenched, but it was a reflex action, I had no anger and no fight left. Just desperation, nausea, disgust.

Trent was still looking straight at me as Sebastian marched out of the hall. "I'm sorry. About Blaine. And the slushie. Tell him, tell him I'll come visit when I-"

"Trent! Come!" He jumped and hurried out, following the others, leaving me alone. Then I heard footsteps behind me, and my brain screamed at me that I wasn't alone, the cellists were still there. The cellists that wouldn't stop, that would take pleasure in completely breaking me, and without caring what anyone would think, I ran.

I ran as fast as I could out of the hall and out of the school to my car. But even then I didn't feel safe, even with the all the doors locked, the engine rumbling familiarly beneath me and control over pushing the peddles when _I_ wanted to; I still didn't feel safe.

* * *

><p>I don't remember the drive home, but I must have and I pulled into my garage, sending a quick text to Brittany, explaining that the duel was taking longer than expected and I would see her at school the next day.<p>

I used the back stairs to get up to my room, bypassing the all the family rooms in the house. No one was home, but I couldn't walk through the main house when I still had this…mark over me. I couldn't infect the rest of the house with my _stupid_ mistake.

I reached my room, gasping for air, even though I hadn't done anything strenuous. I pulled my clothes off my body as quickly as possible not caring if they ripped more. They were already ruined and were still sticky and stained from the slushie, the artificial red looked like blood to me and I shoved the bundle of black and red into my bin.

I ripped the small tape recorder from where Brittany and I had carefully secured it a few hours before, and threw it towards the direction of my bed with a broken sob following it.

I stared at the bin for a few seconds, the metallic pink outside too bright, too happy. Brittany picked it for me a couple of weeks ago, so it was still incredibly clean.

She said that now we were girlfriends she got to buy me domesticated and practical things that she knew I wouldn't choose myself, but that I couldn't get rid of them because _my girlfriend _gave them to me.

It made me smile for a second before I instantly felt sick.

Music.

I needed music.

And a shower.

I walked into my bathroom and twisted the taps until the water pressure was as high as possible and the heat was enough to burn. I caught my reflection in the mirror and my stomach twisted again in disgust as I stumbled backwards into my bedroom. I needed the room to be filled with steam before I could re-enter. I couldn't look at myself.

My cheeks were wet but I couldn't remember starting to cry, the salt stinging my lips slightly where the tears gathered.

I must have bitten them at some point, but I couldn't remember.

My nose had started running without my noticing and I was forced to take huge gulps of air through my mouth.

I was loosing control over myself.

I grabbed my iPod and tried to put it in the speaker docs that sat on my desk, but my hand was shaking too much, and my vision was so blurred by tears that I couldn't access the coordination to do it.

The speakers were edged by two pictures in homemade purple frames. On one side a picture of Britt; smiling widely into the camera leant forward slightly so her loose dancing shirt dipped, showing the top of her favourite pink and black poke-a-dot bra. On the other side, one of the two of us Quinn took whilst in New York. We were busy being us, so we weren't looking at the camera, instead crouched down together, knees brushing and shoulders leaning into each other. At our feet, a duck is pulling the last of my pretzel from Brittany's fingers, whilst my hand encircles her wrist, ready to pull her away to safety if that duck so much as _tried_ to nip at her.

I failed to push the iPod into the small slot again and screamed out in frustration, slamming my empty fist against the desk.

Once.

Twice.

The pain steadied my hands and when I tired again, the iPod slotted satisfyingly into place.

I must have left it on the last time I used it because I heard the last few notes of some Adele song before silence, then a lone electric guitar plucking out a slow, gentle ostinato. I didn't register what was playing, not even when muffled drums and the lyrics started.

_Jesus Christ that's a pretty face_

_The kind you'd find on someone that can save_

I couldn't help but look at the pictures. Look at _her_. And suddenly what happened seamed so much more real, my knees buckled, my chest tightened and I crumpled onto the floor like an industrial strength, piston-driven metal plate was pressing down on me.

_If they don't put me away, _

_Well, it'll be a miracle_

My body curled into the foetal position.

It was too much.

Everything.

The memory was still so fresh I could still smell him, still feel his touch like a cruel phantom tingle; I couldn't get away from it.

_Do you believe you're missing out?_

_That everything good is happening somewhere else_

_With nobody in your bed the nights hard to get through_

Tears started to fall down my face, or perhaps they had always been there.

My mouth, though open, remained silent.

My limbs started to shake, my chest heaving, from the lack of oxygen and the forced attempts to equilibrate the levels again. And throughout, the tears kept falling, like some kind of involuntary emotional cleansing of my body.

_And I _

_Will die_

_All alone_

_And when I _

_Arrive,_

_I won't know anyone_

My body was still shaking, whether from the aftermath of the sobs or cold from being in nothing but my underwear or disgust at what I had done, I didn't know but at some point the flow tears had stilled, those that had already fallen, dried on my face. Small trails of delicate, thin, salty crust like the top of a frozen puddle.

_Jesus Christ I'm alone again_

_So what did you do those three days you were dead? _

I couldn't let Brittany know about this. She's already felt too much of this kind of pain.

I couldn't add to it. I couldn't remind her of it.

'_Cos this problems gonna last _

_More than the weekend._

I saw ivory coloured tendrils of steam sneak into my room, a welcome invitation and I pushed off from the floor and dragged myself into my en suite. I hoped that somehow the music wouldn't be able follow me in there, but if anything it was louder. It pounded at my ears and bounced off the clean while tiled walls.

_Jesus Christ I'm not scared of dying_

_I'm a little bit scared of what comes after_

_Do I get the gold chariot do I float through the ceiling?_

My eyes were drawn towards the two razors that sat in the tray next to the soaps and bottles and brushes. My hand reached towards the newest one, but flashes of being found before I could die and forced to explain everything over and over again spread through my mind and I pulled my hand back as if bitten.

I couldn't do that. The chance that it might go wrong, that it wouldn't work and that I would be forced to tell what happened was too high.

_Do I_

_Divide_

_And fall apart_

I stepped fully into the shower cubicle and left the door open. The water was gloriously, painfully hot like a million red hot needles falling across my body. It felt like I stood there for ages, but it can only have been a few seconds, I could still hear the same song.

I grabbed my nail brush and a new bar of soap.

_'Cos my bright_

_Is too slight_

_To hold back all my dark_

I began to scrub, starting at my neck. I broke the skin over the teeth marks, pulling at the tiny scabs, the feeling intensified by the water pounding from above.

Peace.

_And this ship_

_Went down in sight of land_

I scrubbed for so long and so hard that even _my_ skin turned red and my body was humming with a dull burning, satisfying pain.

_And at the gates_

_Does Thomas_

_Ask to see my hands_

By the time I had finished scrubbing my body once, the tears had started again, joined by the water pouring down my face, the sobs swallowed by the water that pounded off the shower tray and the lyrics that bounced off the tiles.

And I began to scrub again.

And again.

_I know you're coming in the night like a thief_

_But I've had some time O Lord, to hone my lying technique_

The brush and soap fell from grip and my body collapsed against the now warm tiles, sobs breaking from my chest as I slid down the wall, curling into a ball.

_I know you think that I'm someone you can trust_

_But I'm scared I'll get scared and I swear I'll try to nail you back up_

My sobs turned into her name, repeated like a mantra over and over again and I wrapped my arms over my head, pulling it downwards towards my chest.

_So do you think that we could work out a sign?_

_So I'll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try_

But it didn't help. Hearing her name from my lips made me feel guilty, like just thinking about her, let alone _saying _her name, after what I had done infected her. Made her as dirty as me.

_I know you're coming for the people like me_

My left hand shot to the side, my curled fist slamming against the wall. The pain from my twisted wrist and the flat unresisting tiled wall shuddered around my body. It allowed me to gain control over my breathing and I slowed my sobbing until it stopped completely.

_But we all got wood and nails_

_And we turn out hate in factories_

My fingers pulled at the skin that was a deeper red than the rest where his sleeve had caused a friction burn.

_We all got wood and nails_

_And we turn out hate in factories_

I kept scratching until the red irritated skin began to show tiny speckles of blood, which was immediately washed away by the cascading water from above.

I scratched again, bringing the blood to the surface again.

Washed away.

Scratch.

Blood.

Washed away.

Scratch.

Blood.

_We all got wood and nails_

_And we sleep inside of this machine_

The single guitar plucking the ostinato was left again, then silence before the music burst back again. My hands fell from my body and I slowly uncurled until I lay flat on the shower tray completely drained as the finial bars of the song fed through into the bathroom.

A new song must have started but all I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears.

I didn't know how long I lay there, but I eventually stood. I must have turned the water off because there were no more needles hitting my skin. Just an almost white room from the density of the steam that didn't make me feel safe anymore, but made me feel claustrophobic as I stumbled from the cubical towards where I knew my towels were.

I reached forwards, hands searching. As soon as my fingers brushed against one I pulled and quickly wrapped it around my torso and tucked it underneath my arms. I took a step then stopped and reconsidered. I tugged the towel undone forcefully and moved it down to my waist, yanked another towel off the rack and wrapped it around my shoulders.

Like a stupid fucking towel could protect me.

I'm sure the material once felt soft, but instead it scratched against my skin, like they were made out of Velcro.

But my body _was _completely covered.

Like a stupid fucking towel could protect me.

When I walked into my room, the first thing I saw was that pink bin and the nauseous feeling returned knowing what was inside. I searched blindly around on the top of my desk, fingers running through the papers and pens reaching for my lighter.

I needed anything he had touched to go.

The cold metal of my lighter was strangely calming and I grabbed the nearest piece of paper, flicking the lid to ignite the gas, at the last minute checking the paper wasn't something from Brittany.

Of course it was.

I picked up the next and the next and the next.

All from Brittany.

All cute notes or stories or to do lists or pictures or 'Our Future' promises.

My face was screwed in anger, but there were no more tears to fall and finally a plain sheet of paper was pulled in front of my face.

I lit the bottom, ready to drop it, but instead I was fascinated watched the orange and black eat away at the paper.

I must have moved my free hand, fingers teasing the flames because I could feel the heat intensly.

Fire. I think I was trying to purge my sins. The baptism hadn't worked.

I dropped the half burnt page into the bin when the pain in my fingers wasn't nearly enough.

More purging of sins.

It didn't work. Even when the clothes were just a black lump in the bottom of the bin, I still felt…

And now I had marred the bin, her present to me, with foul black smudges. I was ruining her and her memory without even being near her.

Still covered in my Velcro towels my legs collapsed, my body bent in half and I suddenly couldn't breathe.

I needed her so much.

But I couldn't go to her.

I couldn't…infect her.

My very touch would taint her.

She had already being touched by…by…_this_ too much already, and I wasn't going to let it hurt her any more.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey Britt! Hey! Let me in! It's Tucker." Fourteen year old Brittany and I were sharing the cabin along with another girl, but she had snuck out to visit her boyfriend, so we had decided to share her bed. We did it often at cheerleading camp, and this year was no different. Besides, it was comfier than mine, and had a view of the stars, right beneath the window. At the sound of his voice though I jumped, started towards my bed before turning back to Brittany and pushed her towards the door then ran, climbing under the covers just as she reached the door. She liked him, she had told me. He was on one of the other cheerleading groups and they had gotten talking about motor cross one session. She liked him.<em>

"_What are you doing here? You know that boys aren't allowed in the girls cabins!" She tried to whisper, but it was loud enough for anyone close to hear, like when a child tries to whisper something they are excited about. "You could get in trouble. I don't want you to get in trouble because of me." I couldn't help but smile at this, then instantly chastised myself, I shouldn't be this enamoured with her, she is just my best friend. _

_I always was good at lying to myself._

"_Well, you're worth it Britt. Anyways, I thought we could, uh, you know, play a game. Let me in and I'll tell you." I could see her shadow jump out of the corner of my eye and heard her hands clap once in excitement as she walked over to her bed, followed by Tucker after he shut and locked the door._

_That should have been my first warning. But I knew she thought he was cute and sweet, and all the other girls were tripping over themselves to get him to notice them. So I ignored it, and just pulled the cover closer to my chest._

"_It's called, uh, 'Alien Invasion'…yeah, uh, I'm an alien from a visiting planet, and I don't have any friends-"_

"_This game sounds sad. I don't want to play a sad game Tucker."_

"_No! No!" He grabbed her hands, and my fist tightened around the edge of the blanket before I could stop it, although I refused to register the reason or acknowledge the action, even when I felt my nails dig into my palm. "No, it's not sad, 'cos you, you're the uh, nice human that, uh, becomes my friend and helps me understand things like, uh, science and culture and shit." His right hand had moved to her thigh, bare except for the indecently short regulation cheer shorts we all had to wear. _

_She looked down at his hand, which had started to move down to her knee, then slowly made it's way back up towards the bottom of her shorts. "Okay." She whispered. Took a breath. Then nodded. "Okay." She repeated. _

_That was the second sign I should have noticed. It was the tone of voice she used when she was only agreeing to avoid confrontation, or when she thought agreeing would make the other person happy, regardless of what she actually wanted. _

_But I ignored it, like the last. _

_She should be 'playing games' with cute boys on other cheerleading teams. She shouldn't be sharing a bed with me staring at the stars, trying to make out shapes and renaming every one accordingly even though she knew the proper names of all of them._

_I couldn't see his face, but he must have smiled at her while he slowly pushed her back against the bed, spreading her legs a little so that he could sit on the bed between them. He moved one hand to her hip, the other still moving over her thigh, each time reaching higher and higher. "So, I'm an alien, yeah, and, uh, well, I've never seen a human before. What's your name human?" She giggled softly, any unease forgotten in the benign start to his game._

"_Brittany. Brittany S. Pierce. Do you have a name Alien?" She stuck out her hand for him to shake, and he looked between her face and her hand a couple of times, before taking it._

"_You can call me Tucker." He kept his hold on her hand, moving it upwards, her face stayed amused, if slightly confused, then I couldn't see her anymore. He had her hand pinned above her head, his other hand shuffling around by their hips, then suddenly moving her other hand so that they were both above her head,_

"_Tucker? What are you doing?" She sounded…curious, but not afraid. _

_Not yet._

"_You're teaching me about biology, see, I've got this pain, between my legs, I thought you could help me, uh, relieve it." Suddenly the shuffling made sense in my head, and my whole body froze. I didn't know what to do. I knew what he was trying to do, but I couldn't see Brittany, I didn't know if she knew what he was intimating, or whether she wanted it to happen or not._

_Then the most horrible sound tore through the heavy silence in the cabin "No. No. Stop." I could hear him trying to reassure her, tell her she would enjoy it, that it wouldn't hurt that much when she cried out again. "Tucker! STOP! Please!" Her voice was tinged with fear and tears, and my body acted automatically, pulling myself from under the covers and towards the bed._

"_Get the fuck away from her you pig!" To me it seamed like hours before I reached her, before I could pull at his legs to get him off her, before I could scratch at his skin. But it can only have been a few seconds, as my surprise attack caught him off balance, and I easily pulled him off the bed and onto the floor. As I stood over him, between him and Brittany, protecting her, I was so angry I couldn't think what to say. "Get the fuck out of this cabin, and don't you dare even look at her again." He was sat on the floor, naked from the waist down, a look of horror or shock on his face. He still didn't move, and I could feel Brittany grabbing at the back of my night shirt. When I heard a strangled sob from her and the fist pulling harder at my shirt, I stepped towards him and slapped him hard across his face. "Fuck off! Now!"_

_Reality finally caught up with him and he ran, probably back to his own cabin, I didn't care. As soon as he had moved from the floor I turned towards her, pulling her fist from the back of my shirt and dragging her sobbing, shaking body into my lap. I looked at her, still with her shorts on in the right place and I let out a long breath that I didn't even realise I hadn't let myself take since Tucker entered the cabin. I ran my fingers through her long hair, every so often massaging at her scalp making soothing sounds. I let her cry. If it was me I would want to be alone, but I knew, when she was upset, really upset, she just liked to be able to cry, whilst still knowing someone was there with her._

_After what must have been hundreds of sobs, they began to slow and she shifted her body so she was straddling my waist, her body slumped against my own and her face nuzzled into my neck. Every so often I heard her take a deep breath. She told me later it was because she needed to smell me, it comforted her, and reminded her that he had gone. At the time I just thought all the crying had disrupted her breathing pattern._

_When the sobs stopped and her body stopped shaking, I wriggled my left arm from between us pulling her hair away from her neck so I would whisper into her ear. "Britt. Let's go to my bed. I know the view isn't as nice, but, um" I tried to think of any reason other than 'but at lest some guy didn't try to rape you on it' and I pressed a kiss to the exposed skin above her ear to buy me time. "But, at lest it's warmer, away from the window. Yeah?" I felt her nod against me, but she didn't move off my lap. I gently pushed at her body until she had moved enough so I could untangle my legs from her then pulled her across the room to my bed. I didn't know if she would want me in the bed with her after what had happened, but she wouldn't let go of my hand and when I didn't sit down straight away she tugged until I climbed under the cover with her. She instantly tangled our legs together, pulled my arms to sit around her hips whilst her own arms twisted to move beneath my shirt sitting against my ribs._

_She was still for so long, I presumed she had fallen asleep. _

_I couldn't sleep, there was too much anger coursing through my body for that. I saw my clock out of the corner of my eye, it was three hours since he had entered the cabin and her breath was even and slow, I could feel it flitting across my collarbone._

_It felt amazing, and I could help but hold her tighter. Trying to protect and comfort every inch of her. I felt her head shift, warm lips pressed against my neck over and over. Her hands moved higher to just below my armpits, pressing against the side of my breasts; back down and gripped at my hips._

"_San? Sanny?" I cupped her face and pulled her lips towards mine, gently, barely touching, letting her know I was listening, her voice thick and lower than normal. "Make me forget it. Make me feel better. Please." I pulled away in shock, I needed to look into her eyes, to be sure she asked what I thought she was._

"_Do, do you mean." I couldn't look at her eyes and my voiced lowered in volume. "Sex? I mean, are you sure you want to?" She kissed the bridge of my nose then my lips again._

"_Please. Make me feel something other than him." The desperation in her voice made my heart ache. And everything clicked in my head. I don't know why I was surprised, every time she hurt herself when she was little she needed to be touched near the injury to make her feel better. The strange, unique way her body reacted to life in such a tactile mannor. _

_But we hadn't gone as far as sex before. _

_Although I would never have admitted it, when we finally did have sex, I had wanted it to be…special. I had wanted it to be like every Disney movie that made her face light up and glow with happiness. _

"_Please." Her quite, soft voice cut through my churning thoughts, making the decision for me. I never could say no to her, and then was no different. So I kissed her once more on each cheek before I pulled my shirt off; then hers. _

_That evening I did everything she told me to without pause. I watched in wonder as I learnt new parts of her body, saw new expressions cross her face, felt new, unbreakable connections build between us. There wasn't a moment where we weren't touching._

_The next morning though, it was obvious that the memories hadn't left Brittany, that it was still bothering her. She would flinch every time someone other than me touched her. Every time a male voice was heard louder than speaking volume she physically recoiled and folded around me. We only went to one other party. It took barely twenty minutes before some douche bag grabbed her arse and her face paled to almost ghost white as she clutched at the front of my shirt and my arm, so hard that when she let go there were four small white finger prints on my skin. _

_For three weeks she was a nervous, not-quite-Brittany, but no one other than Quinn noticed or cared. She had managed to switch with the other girl in our cabin, and for those three weeks we would regularly spend the evening with Brittany crying herself to sleep between us. Sometimes silently, sometimes so loudly and violently I was surprised the whole cabin didn't shake in time with her._

_The last two weeks of camp Brittany was better. She no longer cried herself to sleep and Quinn only had to sleep with us twice more. She was still nervous around large groups of guys and showed no interest in the parties, but during cheer practises she was boisterous, happy, energetic Britt again._

_We had sex again too. But I would only let her wandering hands go that far when I was sure Quinn was asleep, or on the rare nights that she wasn't there._

_By the time we got back to Lima, she was willing to talk about it, not just work through her feelings and confusion by touch and being touched. It took another three months of talking to me, and to a councillor in the neighbouring town before she was my Britt again._

* * *

><p>I couldn't let her be near that kind of pain again. She had gone through it once, and was so strong. So very strong. I wouldn't be the one to make her do it again.<p>

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, so a couple of things that I didn't want to put in the top author's note…

Firstly, Sebastian only used his fingers because, personally, I see him as really gay, that even the rush of power and control wouldn't be enough for him to actually want to use anything other than his fingers, hence why the cellists were there.

Secondly, the racial slurs. I changed my mind about 20 times, taking them out, putting them in, taking them out, putting them in. I decided to leave them, as it is canon that Sebastian has used racial slurs to hurt her, so I figured he wouldn't let the opportunity to hurt her both physically but also insult her about who she is. So yeah. I hate them, but I thought it was in character for him to say them, so they stayed.

I hoped this lived up to what you expect Demon ninja! Thanks for reading, reviews are most welcome :D


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry guys! Forgot to say, the song I used in the last chapter was Jesus Christ by Brand New! Can't believe I forgot haha!

I obviously don't own Glee (which is probably just as well, otherwise it would be terrible!) or any of the characters. This is also unbeted, although I have checked through it, but I'm sure that I've missed something.

Also, I don't speak Spanish, and I don't really trust Google translate, so anything that is in speech marks and italics, when the rest of the body of the text isn't in italics, is in Spanish.

Thanks so much for all the favourite and alerts I received on the last chapter, and also for the reviews I got! I would love a few more, just so I know what you guys all think! Good or bad, I'm not precious about what I write, and I especially realise that I'm not amazing or anything, but a few words about what you thought would be welcomed :)

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><p>By the time I pulled on one of Brittany's Cheerio's t-shirts and a pair of her old cat pyjama bottoms (the extra length that hung over my feet made me feel protected and like I was in quarantine all at the same time; like nothing in the world could touch me without first getting through her protective pyjamas, but simultaneously it stopped me from touching anything, from poisoning my pathway to the bed) I had had four more showers, each one hotter and longer than the last.<p>

The skin on the back of my hands was chapped and red and wrinkled from too much soap, too much heat, too much scrubbing.

There were scabs forming where the cracks were so deep blood had welled to the surface, and I couldn't help but pull every single one off. I didn't want to stop myself, the small jolts of pain provided seconds of calm.

I pulled the covers up over me – two fluffy blankets and a duvet – before instantly feeling smothered and I kicked them off to puddle around my feet, until a panicked feeling of exposure twisted through me and I scrambled to pull them up to right under my chin before my mind was screaming at me to get _him _off of me and pushing them all off in frustration into a heap on the floor. I was breathing so heavily that even lying flat on my back, I could see my chest rising in my peripheral vision.

I couldn't sleep.

I curled up into a ball, enveloping myself in Brittany's smell, pulling the sleeves of the t-shirt desperately closer to my nose, pushing my knees forcefully towards my face.

Even then, every time I let my eyes close his face would appear, or I could feel pressure on my knees; like someone was trying to pry them apart.

It was two am when his voice started to float around in my head. The threat he made about Brittany, repeated over and over and over, hurting me like a hundred tiny swords, heated and honed just for this purpose.

It was five am when I was so tired and so drained that empty, silent sobs were being pulled from my body, my throat burning with every retch that produced nothing but more pain.

It was seven am when my mum came in, her tired face morphing instantly into worry when she saw me, still curled into a ball, still pulling at Brittany's t-shirt like it could still do any good.

"_What's wrong? Do you not feel well? Did something happen? Did someone, did Brittany hurt you? Are you guys fighting?" _The slew of questions only increased the intensity of my grip on the shirt sleeves and when she suddenly appeared next to me touching a cool hand to the side of my face, my body instinctively attempted to curl tighter. _"Bean-Bug?" _The long forgotten childhood nickname just reminded me at how much I had changed, and my eyes picked out his shadow from across the room.

I opened my mouth, but nothing happened.

He waved patronisingly at me.

Just his fingers.

Wiggling.

Mum just kept her hand on my face, unknowingly becoming part of my mistake, covered by my shadow.

I tried again, screwing my eyes shut in concentration and his smirking face swam before my eyelids instead, surrounded my bright white hot spots. _"Feel sick." _I could feel that pressure on my knees again._ "So sick mama." _Nails digging into the soft tissue in between the knee cap and the ball and socket joint._ "I don't want to move." _Too much pressure, it was winning and I could feel my legs spreading unwillingly. "_Sick." _A pathetic sounding sob falling with the last syllable, and I felt her hand move from my cheek to my forehead, her body shifted as she moved to reach, the feeling of her above me causing me to tense in irrational, irresistible fear.

I don't know if she noticed my movements, or the bags that must surely have been hugging the skin underneath my eyes, or the slick covering of fearful, disgusted sweat that clung to my body and made my hair slowly corkscrew, but she just hummed in agreement and moved to stand next to my bed.

"_Will you be okay if I go to work? Your father had an early shift, so he's already at the hospital and won't be home until tomorrow evening." _I almost sobbed in happiness. I didn't know how I would be able to reach my father's cool, authoritative eyes (somehow still able to show love if you meant enough to him) without him knowing that I had made such a huge mistake; without feeling just how _terrible _that mistake was. I managed to nod, and even turn the corner of my mouth into what could be considered an almost smile. She moved her knuckles softly down my cheek, it was meant to be comforting but instead felt like being caressed with wet sand paper, and then whispered a goodbye.

She walked through my door and I was again alone in my silent and dark room.

No, not alone.

He still stood across the room, even though I felt his hands on me earlier.

That same smug grin that grew to show his upper teeth when our eyes met.

So I closed my eyes, it had kind of worked before. Maybe if I closed them hard enough, tight enough he wouldn't be able to get through.

He would get board and go away.

"Don't pretend like you didn't like it." He didn't go away. If anything his voice was closer. "I've heard about how many guys you've fucked. And from what I've heard they were far less gentle than me." He was so close that I could smell peppermint and an antique, exotic spice that must have been his cologne.

I didn't remember smelling anything…before.

During.

"Whore." It wasn't working, my eyes were screwed shut so tight that I could feel the skin at the corners of my eyes stretch painfully and my whole face aching from being in the same position for so long.

So I pulled my eye lids apart, parts of the skin stuck where tears and sleep mucus had settled.

I expected him to be there, his stupid fucking smug smile.

But he wasn't. My room was empty, and even the whisper of his voice was gone.

* * *

><p>I just lay there.<p>

I just stared at my alarm clock without blinking until my eyes were stinging and even when I shifted my gaze, little green lines danced around my room. I slowly became aware that my body was shaking and that goose bumps had puckered my skin, even the skin covered by Brittany's clothes. I blindly flung my arm over the side of the bed and grasped for the pile of blankets I knew was there.

As soon as my fingers brushed against soft material, I shifted my body backwards, and contracted my hand, but instead of the expected yield and moulding of blankets in my fist, I felt something hard pressing into my palm.

I squeezed experimentally.

Something gave way creating a whining sound, then I heard two soft clicks, and suddenly my voice filled the room.

_You wanna have a duel?_

_Everyone else clear out_

_I was better_

Chairs scraping across the floor –

_It's Blaine _–

Pathetic whimpers encircled by his heavy breathing and laughter –

The sound of my wrist thumping against the wall –

More weak sounds, most of which I didn't even remember making –

The impatient banging and rattling of the other Warblers trying to get in –

_Pretty little blonde thing – _

_More than willing to spread her legs _–

Begging –

I sounded so pathetic, I thought it was no wonder he chose me. I couldn't believe how little fight, how little resistance I had put up.

Maybe he was right. I had fucked other people, guys, at lot of times in order to forget Brittany.

Maybe this was no different.

I pulled my arm back, my body once more curled, the tape recorder clutched in my hand and my ear, already uncomfortably hot, pressed against the Swiss cheese looking speaker.

I pressed rewind, watching the little wheels spin fast and a slight whine emanated from it followed shortly by a loud hollow thump as the tape reached the beginning once more.

I pressed play.

Rewind.

Play.

With each subsequent listen, I felt more desperate to make it stop and more desperate to press rewind and play again.

I don't know how many times I listened, but I ended up on the floor at some point, legs tucked under me as my upper body slumped against the bed. My forehead rested against the edge of my mattress and my hands were clasped, outstretched above my head.

I don't know why I was praying.

"_Forgive me Father, for I have sinned, it has been two years since my last, honest confession. I…like girls. I love girls. Today I didn't fight hard enough, I let him…let him…Oh God, I pray to you to beg for your forgiveness and to promise Lord I will never let anyone do that again. Lord, forgive me please, and I swear I will never kiss her, never even touch her again if you please just take my memories away. Please. Anything. Please God. I will never think about any girl in that way again, just make this hurt stop, just make it go away." _What began as barely intelligible Spanish surging from my raw throat and tears that teetered on the edge of my lashes, altered into chant like begging as my tears dominated, and leaning against the bed became too much.

I fell against the carpet with an unregistered thump, still begging to be forgiven and to make everything stop.

Even when the tears had stopped and my throat was so raw and painful that I couldn't make a sound, my lips still formed "Make it stop" repeatedly and my eyes were wide and unfocused in desperation for both an answer and more tears as if it would help.

That I was looking at space between the floor and the mattress filtered into my brain, and slowly, like an absurd, genius idea forming, my eyes focused on a broken pom pom handle, long since discarded and forgotten about.

I reached forward, not pulling it out just yet, running the pad of my thumb across the edge which should be attached to the ball of itchy, shiny ribbons.

It was broken, just like me.

I could feel a bitter smile take over my face as I pulled my body into a sitting position, the red plastic coming with my hand from under the bed.

I rolled it between my palms, transfixed by the shadows it threw – mountain peaks across my door, icicles on my ceiling, church spires flitting across the rumpled bed sheets – before I settled it securely into my left hand, twisting my right to rest palm upwards on my leg.

I slowly pulled the shattered shard of plastic across my wrist then upwards from the bottom of my hand to just below the crook of my elbow. I had to press so very hard, so many times just to leave a mark. Even then it was only an angry red bump along my dark skin.

I pressed again, even harder until it finally broke through the protective layers of epidermis but I still couldn't reach anything major enough to cause more than a pathetic dribble of blood.

I screamed in frustration, throwing the broken pom pom handle across the room where it landed near my bathroom door.

It took several seconds of staring at the door until I could hear the cogs in my sleep deprived brain clicking through another thought, but I was suddenly surrounded by the blinding white of my bathroom with the mirrored cabinet opened and all the packets of pain medication, sleeping tablets and antibiotics from the many Cheerio's accidents, piled into the skin.

The blister packs all empty.

My mouth felt…tingly and acrid.

But I remember smiling.

I remember a cool plastic feel in my hand, and for a moment I thought I had picked up the pom pom handle again, to try and make more of my life flow from my body quicker; but it was a pen.

My other hand rested on a sheet of paper, covered in my handwriting, although it became sloppier moving down the page.

I had started crying again at some point too, and through my confusion and the fuzzy edges of both my brain and vision, I looked at those letters marching across the page. Some of them smudged or covered by salty drops of moisture.

'My Dearest Britt-Britt

Remember how every time someone hurt your feelings or you fell over or you got an injury at dancing? I always told you that bad things sometimes happen to good people and that you have to look the pain in the eyes and let it not win?

Well sometimes bad things happen to bad people. Like me. Especially when they don't try hard enough to stop them. Like the other day.

And I can't look at this pain. I deserve it too much, and I can't fight it, it has to win.

I'm not a good person like you.

And I'm not strong like you.

You're the strongest person I know Britt, so I know that you'll be able to get away from this, fulfil all of your dreams, and you'll be all the better for not having me weigh you down. For not having me to corrupt you any more than I already have.

I will always love you, to the end of my life, and forever after.

Goodbye

Your Santana'

I felt sick to my stomach, but for the first time in what felt like forever, not because of what had happened but because of what I was doing.

Coward.

I couldn't do this to Brittany.

Selfish coward.

I couldn't just…give up and leave her…I…I...it was getting harder to think. Like I could see all the thoughts were there, but behind a wall of cloud so I could see what they thoughts _were_.

The room was spinning and it suddenly flipped onto its side, and I could feel scratchy carpet on one side of my body.

Coward.

The letter fluttered down from my desk and landed by my nose.

I couldn't leave her.

Selfish.

I couldn't let him hurt her by letting him win at getting rid of me.

My white bathroom dripped across my sideways bedroom, the bowl of the toilet yawning in front of me; and I shoved my fingers as far down my throat as I could.

It didn't take much, I already felt so sick from coming so close to breaking Brittany's heart.

Again.

Sick from taking to long to register that my one little cowardly action would have so many repercussions, like throwing a pebble into still water; the ripples would cause so much damage, especially to Brittany.

I retched again, another river of half digested pills and white frothy liquid ejected from my body.

Once more.

I fell against the cool wall of the shower and took several deep breaths as my brain and sight were released from their fuzzy medication induced prison. The coolness spreading from the glass helped too. It spread through and over my body like frost does over flowers when they speed up the frames so hours happens in seconds.

I don't know how close to the end I was, I only knew that I needed to get as far away from that decision as possible. I felt like my fingertips were grazing against control, and if I could just keep connected to that feeling, it would grow and I would feel like myself again.

I pushed myself off the floor, like a toddler; feet flat first with my arse in the air then a finial shove of my arms and my upper body straightened.

The room swayed, but I closed my eyes and clenched my fists attempting to trap that control, to push it through my palms and into my blood vessels so it could diffuse around my body.

I walked as quickly as the spinning room would allow me and scrambled around on the floor for the tape recorder. The weight of the still warm and moist plastic spiked something new, no, old, in me.

Anger.

I ripped the tape out, my left arm cocked back, the small inconsequential painful tape trapped by my fingers. I was ready to hurl it across the room, against the wall as hard as I possibly could. But my arm shook as if the tape weighed a tonne and I could feel the tears running down my face again, as I brought my arm back, and pulled my fisted hand against my heart.

I couldn't throw it away.

I had no idea why, but I needed to keep this…record.

The control that was previously zinging across the length of my fingers was trickling away, teasing at the very edges of my fingertips.

I tucked the tape into the pocket of the pyjamas.

Gone.

I closed my eyes as bone aching tiredness and defeat crept across my nerves, and he appeared again, lounging against the doorframe, dispassionately toeing the tape recorder splayed open on the floor.

I prised my lids apart again, but he had just moved closer, close enough that I could smell him again. Only this time the peppermint wasn't as pungent and the spices had soured, excited sweat overpowering it.

"Did you really think that you could get rid of me that easily? I knew you were pathetic Lopez, but I thought you had a little more fight in you than that."

I couldn't do anything. I couldn't even shift my head away from his. I felt his hands rest on my knees, his fingers walking up my thighs, one hand pulling at the elasticated waist of the pyjama bottoms, pulling them back as far as he could, then letting them snap back against my stomach.

"Nice. Did dumber-than-Barbie leave them at your house because you'd fucked her stupid? Even more stupid I should say." That predatory grin was back, and it only widened when I began to shake as his finger tips slid against my stomach, reached downwards –

The jarring buzz of plastic on wood broke his influence over me as my head turned to where my phone pulsated and intermittent blasts of red light hit the ceiling. I turned back to where he had been, but there was no longer anything else in my room.

I couldn't scramble off of my bed and over to my phone fast enough. My hands shook out of nerves or disgust or fear or an amalgamation of all of them I wasn't sure. That small little yellow envelope was sitting proudly on my homepage with 'Britt-Britt' next to it.

Despite everything that had happened, despite needing to keep her away from it, keep her safe, I grinned, wide enough to split my chapped and distress bitten lips as I opened the text.

'Good afternoon Dollface! Q, Mercedes, Tina and I made this for you. Berry refused saying it wasn't vegan approved and Kurt didn't want to get his fingers sticky, but he held the plate. Get better soon! Love your B xoxo'

I opened the attached picture, and felt some of the weight shift from my heart as I stared at the obviously school cafeteria grade brownie with a heart and a huge smiley face in whipped cream adorning the top. The cream was already starting to melt and it had caused one of the eyes to look like it was crying…or like it's mascara was running and the apex of the heart was lost of the edge of the square.

But it was perfect.

As was the thumbs up, barely in the frame. It was obviously Brittany's. The nail was short and slightly uneven from where she bit it and the nail polish was bright pink with glitter, but the edges had chipped away. She always hated repainting her nails until the very last chip had 'naturally' flaked off. She always told me it was because she hated the feeling of the acetone and the taste when she forgot about it and bit her nails, but I think it was because she loved seeing her nails grow through how far above the cuticle the polish ended.

I felt the smallest prick of courage at my heart and my fingers moved to send her a reply when the phone was again vibrated and performed its light show.

'I wanted to save it for you, but Q pointed out that the cream would probably just make you more sick and Mercedes said that school brownies aren't that great anyways. So I ate it for you :D Get better soon pretty lady your B xoxo'

She had attached another picture, this time of the brownie hanging out of her mouth, surrounded by a giant smile and her thumbs either side of her face, cream sliding down her chin. I could see Tina's hand reaching to catch it with a tissue, Kurt's perfectly manicured nails visible over the lip of the plate that hovered beneath the balanced brownie and Quinn giggling in the background. Mercedes must have taken the picture.

The tiny prick of courage expanded a little, settling in one of the chambers of my heart. I held the phone against my heart for a few seconds, as if that would make sure this courage stuck around, that maybe it would grow if I just gave it enough nourishment.

I sat down on my desk chair, my eyes closed and clasped my hands around the phone bringing it to rest upon my lips.

He still didn't appear and I couldn't hear his voice or feel his touch.

The courage swelled.

I moved my head down a little so that my forehead was resting on my still clasped hands instead. "_Dear Lord. I know I said I would never kiss her again, and that I was sorry for loving her. But I'm not. I can't believe that our love is wrong when it makes me feel so…beautiful. When I would honestly do anything to protect her. Anything Lord. I'm sorry if this disappoints you. Amen." _I took a deep breath through my teeth making it whip around the backs of my molars before falling down my throat. I hadn't prayed since I asked for my growing love towards Brittany to dissipate. I felt…protected. _"Dear Saint Jude. I pray to you to give me strength. I pray to you in order for me to not have to pray to you again. I pray to you so I can carry on and I can forget it. I pray to you Saint Rita too to help to remind me that I can always move on from my past no matter how hard and get what I want if I continue to strive. I pray to you and to God to give me the strength. Amen." _I made the sign of the cross slowly, pressing the pads of my fingers a little bit harder than necessary to remind myself of what a real touch was; to remind myself that the other touches were imagined.

I opened a new message to reply, and with every key that my fingers pressed I could feel her presence stronger and stronger. Her fingers, slightly calloused from the gloves in motocross and dusty with chalk – she must have been at ballet – pushing at the edges of my mouth to get me to smile.

'Thanks for thinking about me Britt-Britt. I'll be back soon. Love you'

I pressed send and her fingers left my mouth, instead her index finger pressing at the dimple in my cheek. Still smiling like an idiot I padded slowly back to my bed, yanked the covers off the floor where they had lain, abandoned, since sometime in the early morning, and twisted them around my body closing my eyes. Like a cocoon. A comfy warm cocoon.

I huffed in annoyance a few seconds later, one side wasn't tuck tightly enough against my body, and as I reached my hand out to tuck it back into place I pressed against something…scratchy and –

My eyes snapped open and there he was, lying next to me in the bed.

In _my_ bed.

I involuntarily blinked when the phone in my hand vibrated, an in the millisecond between eyes open, eyes closed, eyes open, he had gone again, the covers tightly encircling me.

I took a deep shuddering breath and wriggled as little as possible allowing me to bring the phone in front of my face.

'Always thinking about you ;) Do you want me to come over after motocross and make you feel better? Or bring you some soup? With extra hugs? B xoxo'

I barely had time to finish reading the reply before a second text vibrated through my phone.

'Also, where was my kiss huh? B xoxo'

I couldn't help the short laugh that bubbled from my heart and out of my mouth. It felt so foreign in my mouth, passing across my tongue that my eyes widened in shock, searching around the room as if it must have come from someone else.

Heart still pounding in my chest I looked back at the text, and although it still pounded like I was at the end of a Cheerio's practise, the comforting weight of the courage seamed to be behind every beat.

'No that's okay B, I don't want you to be tired for early Cheerio's tomorrow. How about I make up for the missing kisses when I'm better ;) xoxo'

My thumb hovered over the send icon. The flirting, however innocuous, made me feel…powerful and…obscene and I kept my eyes locked onto the too-bright screen of my phone, just in case he reappeared.

A minute later and the air remained still; there were no insults whispering around my ears.

Another thirty seconds and I chanced sliding my eyes around my room.

Nothing.

So I was brave.

That little package of courage swelled again and I pressed send.

Firmly.

'Defiantly ;) I have to go English now. Won't be the same without you. I love you B xoxo'

My whole body warmed and hummed contentedly. I was still not used to the ease with which we exchanged 'couple-y' things and I felt a little bit of self value attach around the courage.

'Aw my poor Britt-Britt. Don't worry, Physics later :) Love you too B xoxo'

I snuggled even deeper into my blankets and felt my eyelids pulled down by a sudden overwhelming exhaustion that was too strong for even my anxiety of what I might see when my eyelids would meet.

But I still couldn't help but taping at little rectangular tape.

* * *

><p>I awoke several hours later, the green luminescent letters on my clock showing 19:47. I had had felt no repulsive ghostly touches and only one barely registered whisper of his voice.<p>

I stretched languidly.

Then froze as once again my fingers brushed against the scratchy material of his jacket, but a second later it was gone.

I turned to the picture of Brittany sitting on my bedside table, next to my clock, and couldn't help but feel ridiculous. I wondered why I hadn't looked at her picture before. Just looking at her picture made me feel like a lake must feel after heavy rainfall has stopped. So gloriously peaceful and untouchable.

I let my body completely relax into sleep, the picture caressing my eyes, my lips moving in another prayer for strength.

* * *

><p>The green lines displaced 11:04, with a note from my mum balanced carefully on top.<p>

"Bean-Bug,

Try to eat something today. You looked better but I thought another day of rest would do you good. Your father said to pass on a kiss.

Mum x'

After I read the note my eyes automatically flickered around the room, then back to the clock.

11:07.

He hadn't made an appearance all night. I didn't know what was worse, knowing that he would be there every time I cared to look, or that he could appear at any time.

Another tap to the plastic rectangle still pressed against my leg in my pocket.

I jumped when I felt my phone vibrate, and my eyes automatically darted to the clock.

11:11

I knew it would be Brittany before I even opened my hand to revel the screen.

'It's 11:11! Make a wish Dollface! Hope you feel better Sanny. Your mum said you've been sleeping lots. Don't forget to eat. Love you! Your B xoxo'

She always made a wish on times where all the numbers where the same, and she always held 11:11 in the highest esteem. I had no idea why until a few weeks ago.

* * *

><p>"<em>It's 11:11 San! Make a wish." We were sitting on my bed, legs crossed, facing each other so that there was a gentle pressure where our knees met. "And make sure it's an extra special one, remember." I couldn't help the amused grin as I closed my eyes to make the wish. I felt her shift, and a second later, her index finger pressing into my dimple gently, followed by all her fingers tips ghosting down my cheek until her palm rested just below my jaw. "Do you know why I like 11:11 the best San?" I still hadn't opened my eyes. Just feeling her hand on my cheek was overwhelming and I wanted to soak up as much of this feeling before trying to take in any others.<em>

_I shook my head slightly, not enough to displace her soft touch. "No Britt. Why?" I whispered it, but in the silent room where all I was aware of was her and me and where we joined, it sounded like a yell. Powerful._

_Silence settled over us as her fingers drummed against my skin. "Open your eyes Sanny. Please." I smiled and opened my eyes lazily staring into hers. Large, open black pupils from the darkened room, ringed by the clearest, brightest blue I had ever seen in eyes. Her head was tilted slightly to the right, her nose scrunched in thought and the tinniest tip of her tongue was pushed between her lips._

"_Beautiful." I couldn't help the compliment that slipped through my lips to dance in the air between us until nestling into her memory. Her smile widened, cheeks turning a pale, delicate pink and her tongue retreated back into her mouth._

"_11:11 is the most special of all the identical times because…" Her hand on my jaw twitched and I reached forward to the hand resting in her lap and tangled our fingers together so that I could stroke my thumb along the top of her hand. She took a huge breath. "Because it was on my eleventh birthday that I knew for sure I loved you. When my mum told me to make a wish when I blew out my candles, I couldn't think of any words, only your face. So now, anything with eleven in it is extra special. But 11:11 especially." She had started off confidently, some of her words tripping together, but the last sentence was whispered, and the hesitancy in her voice and her eyes made me pull out from her touch, unlace our fingers and lean forward to press our lips together, gentle, with my thumbs moving across her cheekbones._

"_I love you Brittany Susan Pierce. You're it for me." I still hadn't moved from my position so that every true sentiment carried by my words wouldn't be lost to the air. He hands moved to my waist, lips pushed against mine. _

_Once. _

_Twice. _

_She pushed gently, moving me onto my back. _

_Three times._

"_I love you too Santana Catalina Lopez."_

* * *

><p>I could feel the grin, it wasn't quite as carefree and vulnerable as usual, but defiantly more than I had felt since entering Dalton.<p>

'Wish made Britt. I feel better, but I'm still sleeping lots. I'll be back to normal tomorrow I hope. Did you make your wish? Love Sanny xoxo'

I couldn't imagine her nose scrunching in a smile, tongue secured between her teeth, probably on one side of her mouth, as she made her wish and without warning my eyelids fluttered closed and I fell asleep.

* * *

><p>I could smell her.<p>

Citrus.

Soap.

Strawberry, no raspberry Lip Smackers.

Chalk and sweat and musty hall all interlaced – ballet smells.

That distinct mix of scents that never failed to make my heart feel too big for my chest, my fingers ache to touch her and a perfect serenity to envelope me.

I felt her hand move along my cheek, but before I knew what was happening, that antique spice pressed itself between her smell, and her hand became bigger and the calluses disappeared.

I pulled away, eyes jumping open, breathing heavy and an uncomfortable pounding in my ears.

But he wasn't there.

Just her face, hair pulled into the ballet regulation bun, and a tentative, adorable wonky smile.

Another reassuring tap to my pocket.

"Hey." She whispered, fingers moving to hover just above my skin. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you, or startle you. She hadn't moved at all since my eyes opened. Like when she first got Charity from the cat shelter. She had been abused by her last owners, and if you touched her during her sleep she would instantly be alert, heckles rising, muscles ready to bolt at the first hint of pain. Brittany was so good with her, a gentle stroke then freezing until Charity calmed enough for another stroke. The parallel between ten year old Brittany's behaviour around the abused cat and seventeen Brittany's behaviour now was not lost on me.

I couldn't help but cringe.

I pushed her hand back towards my face needing to remind my senses and neurones that it was _her_ and that it was okay. "Hey back. Sorry, just, um, bad dream. Was ballet good?" Holding her hand against my skin was working, I could feel myself relax, and her smile grew when I didn't let go.

She shuffled until she had two pillows lifted a few inches above the mattress, propped by her hand against my metal headboard, then quickly twisted her body to lean against them so that they didn't fall. She tugged on my arm until I half crawled half collapsed into her lap, her arms snaking around my waist, my head nuzzled into her collarbone.

"It was good." Her voice gentle and calm. "I brought you something to eat. I promised your mum that I would make sure you ate it. She says you still haven't eaten anything yet." I shook my head into her collar bone. "Is that no you haven't or no you won't" I just shook my head again, this time bigger, over exaggerated, child like. She giggled, the sound vibrating across my face, and I couldn't help but press closer to her. "Come on Sanny. You don't even have to move, you just have to eat. Okay? For me?" I knew she was pouting without even looking at her. She reached to the side and brought a bowl filled with soup, the steam curling into the air, onto our laps. I sighed theatrically, but the loud anticipatory pleasured grumble from my stomach gave me away and we both burst out laughing.

It felt so good to genuinely laugh. I pulled the spoon from her hand, plastic and pink with a small purple flower at the end of the handle, and began to eat, whilst her other hand supported the bowl.

I woke up the next morning feeling arms tightly wound around my waist. I instinctively froze, but then my other senses caught up. There was no cloying, stinging spice, no obviously over-compensating peppermint. Just citrus. Just comforting natural sweat and chalk. I twisted my body, holding my breath, hoping that she was really there and that he wasn't.

My nose brushed gently against hers and I grinned widely in relief. I pulled my arm out from between our bodies and brushed the bangs that had fallen across her face. At some point she had pulled the elastic and hair pins and hair net from her bun, and it twisted classically around her neck and onto her shoulder.

Her eyes lazily opened and the brilliant blue that swam into focus helped my breathing even out gently. Then suddenly they snapped to the left and widened, her mouth falling open slightly.

"What B? What's wrong?" I stroked at her hair again in an attempt to comfort her.

"What happened to your arm?" I realised what she was talking about and was internally scolding myself at not covering the still glaring red bump that zigzagged down the inside of my arm. "Santana?" Her voice turned firm and concerned and it pulled at my heart achingly.

I gripped the tape, so hard I'm sure my knuckles turned white.

"Oh. Nothing Britt, I just, um, caught it against the washing machine door." It was a believable lie, I'd done it once before, pulled washing out of the machine and caught my arm on the latch on the way out, but it have never looked quite so angry. Or being on the inside of my arm.

She paused, digesting my words, as her eyes flickered between my own slightly dulled brown ones and my arm. I don't think she quite believed me, but also couldn't think of a reason for me to lie or another way that I could have got such an injury. Her head nodded slowly, hesitantly and she held my wrist gently, like it was made of the most fragile, hollow glass, pressing feather light kisses along the length of the cut. She reached my shoulder, then nuzzled into my cheek.

"I love you Sanny. Like, a lot." Her face was still pressed against my body and it made my skin sing in celebration and some of the worries pressing heavily onto my back to float off into the ether.

"I love you too Britt." We laid like that, bodies pulled close, breathing in sync, hearts beating against each other, drawing strength from the other. I felt like I was in this unbreakable protective bubble, but of course it couldn't last. Too soon her mum was knocking gently at the door ready to take Brittany to her hip-hop and street dancing day that she participated in every Saturday without fail.

"You could come too San? You know they don't mind people watching." I almost said yes. Then visions of the crowded dance studio, loud music and all the mirrors that I was sure would show the sickness that was entwined and embedded in my every cell. I shrunk back into the covers and shook my head, my mouth too dry and my voice too broken to speak. "'Kay. Well, I'll see you tomorrow? I can come by right mum? And we can have a movie and ice cream day. The perfect illness cure." It was almost enough to cause my smile to reappear, but I didn't dare show my mouth just in case, instead I nodded firmly once and reached my hand out for hers.

"Sure." It was all I could manage, so I pressed a kiss to her palm, then gently pushed her towards the door.

I had obviously convinced her enough as she smiled slightly and followed her mum downstairs.

* * *

><p>I couldn't sleep for hours. I kept running through her face when she saw my arm and what I had said, like a Harry Potter-esq moving photograph was taped to my forehead preventing my eyes from seeing anything else, and my words were on repeat just inside the shell of my ear so no other sounds could compete.<p>

She believed me.

Of course she didn't believe me, she knows when I lie even when _I _don't know I'm lying.

She had to believe me, otherwise she would have asked until I told her.

Maybe she wanted to believe me, because what she imagined was worse, so to stop imaging that, she believed me.

She wouldn't have left if she hadn't believed me.

But her eyes were still curious.

She believed me.

* * *

><p>I awoke to a dimmed room, the sky a beautiful swirl of deep royal purples, ink blues and determined lines of pink.<p>

And to a pressure next to me on the bed. I sniffed tentatively, both wanted and not wanting to find an answer. The smell of peppermint pricked at my nose.

"_Santana? Are you awake?" _Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes and I turned around so quickly I almost pulled the covers from beneath my mother. She looked shocked my dramatic reaction, and her fingers reached out to stroke away the moisture. _"Are you still not feeling well?"_

"_Better mama, you just shocked me. Thanks for letting Brittany stay last night." _She smiled gently, and kept her and on my head. Her reaction to my sexuality never stopped surprising me; I was still waiting for her to realise what she had accepted, what her daughter was and throw my into our church, not letting me out until I was 'fixed'.

But she never did. And that lingering peppermint smell dissipated away, caught on an imaginary breeze.

"_You two looked so comfortable, I couldn't bring myself to wake you and send her home. She told me about your ice cream movie day tomorrow. Your papi and I will be out, so I am trusting you to behave." _Her voice took on an authority only a mother can manage, but her eyes were still soft, and her mouth was pulled into a small smile.

I nodded my understanding, pushing the sheets back, but holding my right arm tight against my body so she wouldn't see the cut. _"I need a shower," _Another tap against the plastic against my leg. I still wasn't clean._ "Then I'll come down for some food, okay?" _She nodded as she rearranged the bed, fiddling with the stuffed elephant Brittany had won at a school carnival years ago. It was like she knew something was wrong and wanted to say something about it, but didn't know where to start.

Or what to ask.

Telling each other things was still so new to us. I had felt the need to keep so much in the past, mostly about Brittany. My confusion and anger at the strength of my attraction. My inability to understand those feelings and my surety that they were wrong. That I was wrong.

She opened her mouth, still not looking at me, and I held my breath, a litany of lies flying through my brain just in case. _"I'll make you something small and light and have it waiting for when you're ready." _I let out the breath in a loud whoosh and nodded.

* * *

><p>The shower was a mistake.<p>

A huge mistake.

All the reflective surfaces, all the glass, just threw shadows and flashes of a navy blazer and short, brown hair. The flat tiles made the smallest sound his laughter, his threats, resonate harshly around my ears. The steam that curled around my body morphed into his form and pushed at my body, forcing me into the corner.

I scrubbed at my body once again, as quickly and thoroughly as possible. I still wasn't clean, but I couldn't stay in that cubical any longer. As soon as I was covered by towel, still itchy and Velcro like, I rushed to my chest of draws. I pulled out more of Brittany's clothes – this time a long sleeved top – transferred the tape into the new pyjama bottoms and pulled the fabric to my nose taking huge lungfuls of her comforting smell.

I forgot about the food, but I think I fell asleep before my mum realised I wasn't coming down to get it.

* * *

><p>I don't remember Sunday at all. Except that we watched 'The Lion King'. Or maybe that's just 'cos we <em>always <em>watch 'The Lion King' during our movie ice cream weekends.

I'm not sure.

I don't remember Sunday.

But I do remember the important things.

I remember the gentle hold of Brittany's hand around both of mine, which I made firmer, needing to feel every single callous and scratch that just screamed at my sensory neurones 'Brittany'.

I remember curling into her lap as we ate ice cream straight from the tub, the same spoon dipping into every one so that by the end each tub contained multicoloured swirls of indistinct flavours.

I remember starting to cry, and before I could halt their journey down my cheek, her soft lips were gently kissing them away and her fingers were pressing against my spin, then drawing large soothing circles, before walking back up my spine.

I remember her eyes were brimming with curiosity, every spoken sentence laden with unspoken meanings and questions.

I remember the giggles that fell so easily from her lips, went straight to that stubborn lump of courage still nestled there, massaging it, encouraging it to grow.

I remember needing to tell her what happened so badly.

I remember not knowing how and knowing that I couldn't do that to her.

I remember her gently leading me into bed and curving her body around mine, her hand flush against my heart and my breath falling into sync with hers. Slowing.

I remember falling asleep, mumbling a prayer to St Jude to keep me safe and to provide strength and to God to keep her safe and good and strong.

* * *

><p>School felt different. Every face in the corridor seamed like a potential threat. Feeling the warmth of Brittany's hand around mine, occasionally swinging them, helped.<p>

But walking without her was painful and disorientating, like walking through treacle when you also didn't know which direction to go.

I tried to concentrate in my lessons, but I kept catching navy blue in my peripheral vision, certain it was him.

It never was but I couldn't help but look to make sure each time.

Brittany knew something was different when I was once again waiting outside her classroom to walk her to her next when it was nowhere near my own. I needed the comfort holding desperately onto her hand provided.

Sitting in the cafeteria was too much for me, there were too many flashes of navy, too many raised voices and laughs that grated against my ears. I could feel my heart beating erratically, that small bundle of courage trying to control it unsuccessfully. It wasn't until Brittany pulled me to sit on her lap that my body slumped into hers, clinging like an infant to her, and my pulse slowed, my breath evened and I felt like I could relax.

"Are you okay Santana?" She pushed an escaped strand of hair behind my ear then continued her fingers along my jaw.

I pushed my lips against her where her jaw bone and neck connected and nodded. "I am now. Thanks Britt." Another kiss before I sat up and smiled at her.

I think.

"Aw. Aren't you too just adorable!" Kurt's voice cut through my calm, making me jump, then scowl at him in an effort to cover it up.

Brittany snorted in that infectious child-like way. "'Course we are! Are you blind?" She pulled me closer against her and pressed a kiss against my cheek as the other Glee girls came over, bringing with them slices of gossip and snippets of truth. It saved me from having to talk or concentrate on them and I focused on the steady thump of her heart and the pressure of her hand between my fingers instead gladly.

* * *

><p>I can't remember the rest of the day. I just remember oscillating between being on high alert and feeling her hand in mine, a protective bubble around us that not even he had managed to pop.<p>

I remember it ending though. Brittany's hand still wrapped around mine as she led and I followed, completely ignorant, towards the choir room. As soon as we reached the threshold I stopped abruptly and our hands unclasped. It felt like there were lead weights around my ankles stopping me from moving and I think I cried out at the lost of contact with her.

I could see navy in the corner of my eye again, and I could see him everywhere as I searched the corridor frantically. Suddenly everything was gone, there was just a cool darkness and Brittany's voice pressing at the edges.

I thought I had fainted or collapsed or something. But I was still on my feet, jut with my eyes pressed tightly closed. Her hand was back around mine and she was peering curiously into my face, leaning down slightly.

"Are you okay San? You stopped, and then kinda made a sound like when I stop on Lord Tubbington's tail but he's too lazy to move."

"Yeah Britt. Fine." I wasn't. I could feel the sweat prickle at my skin and the faint remnants of his laugh. She didn't believe me either, pulling my body into hers so gently, like she was sure I was about to break.

"If you're still not feeling well we can go home?" I think she was asking me both if I wanted to go home, but also if I could tell her what was really wrong. She always could read me, and I think she was becoming uncertain about why I was really 'ill'.

"Yeah. Yeah. Please Britt. Home would be good." I still hadn't opened my eyes and I pressed my face even harder against her body, my nose pushing between the folds of her Cheerio's jacket. My hand slipped into my pocket encircling the tape.

"Britt? S? Is she okay?" That delicate lilting tone that could only belong to Quinn added another surprising layer of strength to our bubble. Brittany didn't answer he straight away, instead she began to move her hand across my back in large circles. "Britt?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I think she just hasn't eaten enough to last a whole day; I'm going to take her home. Can you let the others know? Please?" Quinn must have nodded as I heard the gentle movement of her dress and Brittany pulling me away from the choir room.

* * *

><p>I don't remember telling her to go, or how I convinced her to go and that I was okay, but I ended up curled under my blankets without her.<p>

As much protection as she offered me during the day, I couldn't let her become infected by my mistake at night, I couldn't let him affect her too. I mouthed another silent prayer to anyone who was listening, feeling sure that he would come back at night.

Certain.

My eyelids slid closed again of their own accord, even though it must still have been early.

* * *

><p>I couldn't distinguish the different days for the rest of the week. Just the time of day.<p>

Each morning I awoke cautiously, sniffing for any small sign of him before I could open my eyes followed by an intense scrubbing shower performed as quickly as possible before pulling on my Cheerio's uniform which felt even more itchy and constricting and identifying than ever before. Once at school, unless I had physical contact with Brittany (contact that made that magical protective bubble form around us), my eyes and ears would be constantly searching for the smallest sign of him, and my muscles would tense ready to flee several times an hour.

A skittish animal.

One that knew it would be hunted, but didn't know when or where the attack would come from.

Brittany was starting to notice that I was acting peculiar too. I would grip her hand just a little too tight in the corridor. I waited until it was just the two of us in the locker room before disrobing and taking hurried showers. I was obviously not paying attention to even fewer conversations that usual. I cowered whenever I heard a shout or raised voices or yelling even if they weren't directed at me or anywhere near me.

She kept opening her mouth and I could almost see all the hundreds of syllables of her questions fighting to get out. But there were too many. Or maybe she could only think of one, but the answer was too scary for her to be able to ask it yet. So she would just hug me closer or squeeze my hand back or hold my towel for me at the edge of the showers.

But the worst was Glee club.

I used to feel so safe in that choir room. Like when I walked through the doorway, I had actually walked into a sort of…parallel universe where showing open affection for Brittany was perfectly acceptable, where singing just to singing was just as important and profound as singing about the biggest emotion you had ever felt.

But every time I got near the doorway, no matter how tightly I gripped Brittany's hand, his form swaggered into view in front of me, clearer and more realistic than at any other time, and his cologne would be so strong it would cause me to choke.

I tried to ignore him, false bravado, but it would only cause him to reach out and touch me, running his fingers over my cheek or up my thigh towards the bottoms of my spanks and my stomach would clench and twist.

Brittany, always hyper alert to my shifts in mood, knew that something was really wrong near the choir room. But although her eyes were begging for answers, she still couldn't form the question.

"Go in Britt. I'm just, not feeling it this week. I think my throat is still a little sore from being ill anyway, so I won't be any use to you guys." The lie fell easily from my lips daily, although I couldn't quite meet her eyes. I tried to smile comfortingly to her, in an effort to make her believe what I was saying and forget any questions. She would only nod pressing her lips against my own or my temple or my cheek and walk over the threshold, looking over her shoulder several times. Watching me watch her.

I didn't go to Glee at all that week.

I couldn't.

* * *

><p>He hadn't made himself felt in my room for days.<p>

In fact, the only time I saw him was by the choir room each afternoon when I walked Brittany there. So when, at lunch, Brittany suggested the both of us skipping Glee and having a sleepover, mentioning that we would have the house to ourselves, I couldn't stop the smile on my face and the nod of my head.

The rest of the day passed as every other. Futile searching for him, pulling away from peoples touches during class, gripping her hand too tightly. But at the end, driving to her house in the comfort of my car, the music so loud that the beat pulsed and vibrated pleasantly through me, it made me feel like nothing bad had happened, and that I was normal and clean.

It felt amazing.

Even when neither of us could remember how to turn on the heating so we both had to keep our jackets on to stop goose bumps from appearing and our teeth from chattering.

The feeling only grew during dinner, expertly cooked by Brittany. She never could read recipes, but she _could_ cook. Really well too. She always knew just what would compliment each other and how much of each ingredient to add.

It wasn't until we were sitting on the couch, the latest series of the latest reality show craze, our shared guilty pleasure, quietly unfolding in front of us and her hand started to stroke along my leg that I felt the need to grip the tape still secure in my jacket pocket.

He still hadn't appeared though, although my eyes searched.

The protective bubble that Brittany always managed to create at school must have followed her home, and as her touches became more insistent and suggestive, I thought I could almost see it shimmering around us.

We somehow made it to her bedroom without falling down the stairs, lips locked together and hands kneading at any available area of skin. All thoughts of spice and navy blazers and intruding fingers forgotten as I was overwhelmed by so much Brittany.

The next thing I felt was her mattress bumping at my knees, which collapsed automatically, pulling her with me. Her hands pulled off my jacket quickly. She giggled at the goose bumps that appeared along my arms. "I think we'll keep your shirt on for a little bit, don't want you getting sick again." She placed hard sloppy kisses along my jaw whilst tugging at my spanks and underwear landing on the floor next to the bed.

Her fingers walked up from the insides of my ankles, then moved to the outside at my kneecaps to tease at my hip bones.

One more kiss and her patience was gone, her interest in teasing me lost and she moved her fingers in between my legs.

I couldn't breath, the fingers inside me kept morphing from her familiar thin, long, calloused fingers to his foreign shorter, wider ones.

I felt like I was going to be sick.

I could feel wetness on my face, and my brain was screaming.

Screaming to pull my body away from the intrusion, screaming to curl into a ball, screaming to protect itself and turn away from the world.

But every time I registered it was her, my body started to beg for her, moulding to her every touch, warmed and tingly wherever she touched.

But I was damaged goods. I couldn't let her become like me too.

I couldn't breath and the room was spinning and my body was rejecting and rejoicing at her touch simultaneously.

And the tears were pouring down my face.

"San? Sanny? What's wrong? Have I hurt you?" She whispered it so lovingly, her hand stilling, and it just made my face wetter and my throat tighten and my arms move to push her off me, spine curling inwards, knees bumping my jaw as giant wracking silent sobs left my chest.

She kept asking what was wrong, rubbing her hand in circles along my back. But it wasn't enough to stop his smug face from staring at me from her doorway. It wasn't enough to let me forget that I couldn't let her be tainted by me and what I had done.

It was all too much.

I clumsily pulled my underwear and spanks back on, thankful for the cold that meant that was all we had taken off, and grabbed at the sleeve of my jacket before blindly running out her room.

* * *

><p>Brittany looked helplessly between her now opened door and the window she was standing at where she could hear and see Santana's car disappearing down the road. Santana had been downstairs before Brittany even registered she had gone, and the front door had slammed shut before Brittany had reached her doorway.<p>

Her eyes stung as tears welled in confusion and hurt as she slowly padded back to her bed; collapsing face first in child like defeat.

She felt something digging into her hip, and wriggled in annoyance. But the pressure stubbornly remained. She sighed and moved her arms over-exaggeratedly in anger, fingers digging around as ton the mattress to find the source of her discomfort.

Finally they closed around something rectangular and plastic that rattled gently when she moved it upwards to her face. Squinting in the dying light, she saw it was a tape, but much smaller than 'The Chronicles of Narnia' audio books she and Santana religiously and repeatedly listened to as children.

Synapses fired dragging an ordinary memory to the forefront. She was taping a recording devise under the swell of Santana's breast, making sure that it wasn't uncomfortable and didn't make the jacket bulge unnaturally. They were giggling as they tried to push the blank tap into the slot of the recorder after it had been securely tapped to Santana's skin, realising their mistake at the order of things.

Twisting it around in between her fingers she realised; she must be holding that tape.

* * *

><p>AN: If anyone is interested, here are the links to who Santana prays to (obviously just remove the spaces):

www . catholic . org / saints / saint . php ? saint _ id = 127

www . catholic . org / saints / saint . php ? saint _ id = 4610

Thanks for taking the time to read this guys! Reviews would be so very appreciated. Please? :D


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Hi everyone! I'm so sorry this took so long, but not only was this part impossible to write, so some weird reason, but college got in the way, as did the rugby! I'm still not entirely happy with this chapter, I think I've re-written it six times, then went back to the original and just improved it. So I hope it's okay!

Thank you so, so much for all the favourites, alerts and reviews I've received! I hope you enjoy this new chapter, and reviews would be much appreciated!

Oh, also, after the very first bit, I change POV, I had to, as this chapter was about Brittany and how she was feeling, more than just how Santana felt, but it's obvious...I hope! All mistakes are my own and I really hope you enjoy...well, maybe not enjoy, but that the quality is still there!

Thanks everyone! :D

* * *

><p>Numb.<p>

I just felt so numb.

It started between my legs spreading throughout my body in concentric circles; ripples in a pond.

Numb and Brittany's broken, hurt face as once again I left her when feelings got in the way and I couldn't, wouldn't, couldn't tell her what was going on.

And disgusted. Disgust_ing._

* * *

><p>They were learning about the Second World War.<p>

Santana still hadn't spoken to Brittany since Friday when she ran away from her, although Brittany had called numerous times, sent what must be hundreds of texts and had even gone to Santana's house. But her parents weren't home and Santana wouldn't answer the continual peeling of the doorbell. Her window wasn't open either which made concern pulsate through Brittany's veins and dread settle heavily in her stomach.

Santana _always _had her window open; she hated the way her room would become musty and stuffy and overpowering.

Her window was always open.

Brittany had given up after an hour and walked to the closest park, swinging gently and dejectedly on a swing whilst silent hot tears dripped from her eyes.

Even now, Santana had managed to avoid eye contact for the majority of the lesson as her gaze instead switched between the white board that showed flickering borderline grotesque pictures and the blank white sheets of her notebook; neat grey lines untouched. Brittany tried every few seconds to get her attention, brushing their fingers together or bumping their knees under the desk but it just made Santana flinch as if hit and her body tense as her spine straightened. Brittany even resorted to blatantly staring at Santana, but it just caused her cheeks to darken, knowing she was being watched, and her lower body to squirm uncomfortably.

"One of the least talked about issues surrounding the war, were the plight of the women after the war. Not the women who our own forces returned home to, but the women in the conquered countries whose husbands, fathers and brothers had died or where captured. Sanctioned, and indeed urged by policies which incited hatred towards Germans and European countries that were allied with Germany during the war, men where encouraged to…relieve their lowest primal urges, resulting in mass rape of women from as young as eleven years old, across Central and Eastern Europe. Any women that tried to resist were either shot instantly, or shot after being raped. Sometimes they were also being forced to watch their loved ones, daughters and sisters, being raped in front of them." Santana's jaw clenched as her stomach knotted, and the word that she hadn't let pass her lips or enter her head bounced around the classroom. She felt like everyone could see that words emblazoned across her body. Like when she visited one of Brittany's many realities at their farm and they branded the cattle that were too old to be of use any more. She was sure that the smatterings of whispers that reached her ears where about her and what she had done.

Brittany continued to look intently at Santana, she could feel discomfort coming from Santana like waves of perfume; acrid and burning and painful. There was fear there too. Fear like before 'Landslide', like when she was hiding something that was eating her up from the inside out.

Only this time, Brittany didn't know what it was.

Mr Benson paused for dramatic effect. Or maybe just to remember what his next point was, Brittany always found his pauses to be more so that he could recapture his train of thought rather than for any actual educational benefit. Suddenly a voice raised above the gentle buzz of disinterested students.

"Oh come on sir. Like that's worse than all the torture the soldiers had to go through in those prisoner of war camps?" One of the dimmer, less sensitive football players, and Brittany, her gaze pulled away from Santana to his cocky face, couldn't help but mentally face palm at his words. Santana, however was just trying to focus on not letting the nauseous feeling that was rippling across her body win. Her hands gripped the sides of the chair until it hurt, the plastic biting into her skin bluntly.

"Yeah," Another football player, encouraged by his team mate agreed loudly. Brittany turned back to Santana, sure that she didn't want to hear him. "I mean it's only sex right? Plus, I thought chicks thought that men in uniform were hot? So they must have enjoyed it right?" Santana's hands let go of the chair abruptly, the plastic too ineffectual, like when a kitten bites when it just wants to play. Smatterings of laughter flitted around the room, from both football players and even some of the Cheerio's in the room.

Brittany had noticed that Santana was finding it difficult to breath and had started twisting and pulling and gripping at her fingers so hard that they were turning white and red. Her arm automatically twitched to reach across and stop the movements, to sooth the mottled skin, but Santana flinched again and Brittany's arm froze.

Mr Benson opened his mouth and lifted his arm, index finger extended, to reply, however before he could, another strong patronising voice slid its way through the classroom.

"Yeah. I mean, you look at the girls that report rape, and they are always asking for it. Like they're slags or cock-teases or wearing slutty clothes or it's their boyfriend and they had a fight so decided to call it rape for revenge or something." The Cheerio's voice became more and more confident throughout her rant, but although most of the guys in the room agreed with her, Brittany could hear people muttering in disagreement. Brittany felt a stab of anger and indignation and the flash of a memory.

* * *

><p><em>After Santana had kicked Tucker out of their cabin, he spread the rumour that Brittany lead him on just to blue ball him. Even by then she thoroughly enjoyed kissing, she liked finding out little quirks about people through their kisses. Those boys that obviously used Chapstick even if they would never admit it, girls who didn't really want to kiss her so were closed mouthed and all puckered lips, boys and girls who were inexperienced, but caring, not knowing when to open their mouths to deepen the kisses or tilting too much or too little, girls and boys (although, mainly boys) who were too eager and Brittany felt like she was drowning and being drunk at the same time, and Santana's that felt like she was being caressed and loved and admired, burning want beneath. <em>

_And so by the end of the following day, the majority of the camp believed his story, not even caring what Brittany had to say about the experience. _

_It was horrible. _

_It made Brittany begin to doubt her own story and believe the whispers. It made her feel like she didn't want to be touched (for a couple of days, after their first time, not even Santana) or looked at (especially by Santana), and even innocent talk about kissing boys made her tense and feel distinctly sick._

_Even once back at school, several weeks later, Brittany was getting notes daily in her locker with 'cock tease' and 'slut' and 'whore' scribbled across them and whispered words following her down the hallway. It wasn't until a surprisingly sympathetic Sue Sylvester, who believed Brittany and Santana and then later Quinn's story, started to threaten mass castration and hourly slushies, regardless of popularity that the notes and whispers stopped. And it was only down to Santana's continual strategic cruelty that the whispers remained silent._

* * *

><p>"Yeah, I agree. Don't you Brittany?" Another of the Cheerio's joined in, her voice catty, the words deliberately spat into the room. But her words barely registered with Brittany, who was too busy noticing Santana, starting to shake her eyes wide and wild.<p>

Fearful.

Brittany had only ever seen her eyes like that when Brittany tried to get her to talk about feelings after sex; she hadn't seen them like that in so long and questions formed and wriggled in her brain.

Like pieces of some grotesque puzzle.

"Settle down everyone." Mr Benson had finally found his voice. "Rape is not something that should be joked about or its impacts belittled. There are accounts, diary entries and eye witnesses, which talk about it. How the women were all too scared to leave their homes long before their villages were pillaged, because they had herd the stories. Many of the women who weren't killed by the rapists committed suicide, even in areas of prevalent religion where suicide was a sin. All the women experienced depression and would pull away from society, and there are also accounts of feeling dirty and blaming themselves, wrongly I hasten to point out, and not being able to be touched by another person, even when their husbands returned home." His voice was far sterner than the students had ever heard, and even the loudmouthed jock who had spoken first fell silent. His eyes searched around the room, daring anyone to argue. "Good. Now. Homework…" Brittany completely tuned out his voice, her eyes running all over Santana, trying to find the words to ask her questions, her suppositions, having to stop her automatic tactile reactions. Santana was still stiff, the bones and muscles prominent in her jaw and neck, her forced heavy breathing causing her nostrils to flare.

"San?" Brittany whispered. "San, please look at me." Santana just aggressively shoved her textbook and ring binder into her bag and stalked out of the room, not looking back.

* * *

><p>Brittany walked over to the Glee table in the cafeteria, two lunches on one tray in the hope that Santana would show up and would talk to her. She sat down between Quinn and Mercedes, but after setting the tray down she suddenly wasn't hungry, instead laying her head against Quinn's shoulder and playing absent mindedly with the charm bracelet around Mercedes' wrist.<p>

She would tug gently on each charm, feeling the cool metal or plastic curves and lines beneath her fingers, then sit up, turning her head around the room in search for Santana, then sigh and drop her head back onto Quinn's shoulder, twirling the bracelet to the next charm.

After close to ten minutes of this, and seven complete turns of the bracelet, Quinn decided something needed to be said.

"Britt? Is everything okay? I mean, you seam a little distracted, and you haven't eaten anything." Quinn prodded gently, running her fingers through Brittany's ponytail in an attempt to relax and comfort her like she had seen Santana do so often.

"Yeah, you haven't even tried to steal my chocolate milk yet!" Mike tried to make her smile as he poked gently at her arm from across the table. She just shrugged and nuzzled further into Quinn's shoulder, moving onto twisting Mercedes ring.

Quinn sighed, pulling Brittany's hands into her lap and moved her head around gently by the jaw to maintain her full attention. "Did you and Santana have a fight? I've barely seen her all day, and she was ignoring her mobile this weekend." Brittany's lower lip trembled, and she immediately sucked it into her mouth in an effort to hide it, but not before Quinn saw it. "Britt, honey, what happened?" Quinn started to run her fingers through Brittany's ponytail once again waiting for Brittany to collect everything she was feeling into coherent words.

"She…we went home on Friday, you know, for sweet lady kisses, and sex and snuggles and then more sex," If Brittany wasn't so hurt looking, the disgusted face, complete with nose crinkle, from both Kurt and Rachel would have made Quinn laugh out loud. Instead she concentrated her focus on Brittany, making sure she knew that Quinn was listening, and she could see Mercedes start to rub Brittany's back in wide calming circles, whilst Tina and Mike leant forward attentively. "And, well, we had only just really started, and she…well, she left." Brittany couldn't say that Santana had cried. Not only would she feel like she had betrayed an unspoken trust between herself and Santana, but the reason that was formulating in her mind was too horrible for her to whisper in a cafeteria. "And then, she, um, she ignored my phone calls, like she did to you Quinn, and then today in history, she…" Deep breaths, just deep breaths Brittany thought. It was the best way to stave off her tears. "She wouldn't look at me, and she seamed really…I dunno, upset about what we were talking about and then she left."

"Santana? Upset?" Rachel's voice cut through all the comforting sounds the others were making. "Are you sure you just weren't confused Brittany? Maybe she was just annoyed?"

"Santana _does _get upset by things Rachel. She is, after all, human." To Brittany's surprise, it was Mercedes who replied (although, really, Brittany thought, she shouldn't be surprised. Santana respected Mercedes because Mercedes respected Santana, was angry at Finn's loud, insensitive mouth, and when Mercedes ran off stage upset over Sam, Santana was there for her), and the harshness in her voice made whatever else Rachel was going to say to die in her throat.

"And Brittany isn't stupid, I mean, who else knows or understands Santana as well as she does?" Tina, softer than Mercedes but no less firm, this time Mike nodding emphatically beside her, whilst Brittany's mouth just opened and closed, her defences of Santana superfluous. Even amongst Brittany's less than comforting thoughts, she couldn't help but smile at the others coming to Santana's aid.

"Do you know why she's upset? I mean, has something happened?" Quinn's gentle voice broke through Brittany's smile and she was reminded about why the others were talking about Santana in the first place.

"No. She won't talk to me. And she's been avoiding me. I followed her from history, but I couldn't see her. I even…I even got her lunch but she…she isn't here and…" It was all too much for Brittany, having a suspicion that she knew she couldn't voice, but at the same time needing to tell someone in order to figure out whether she was right, or just paranoid from her own experiences. Once one tear escaped, hundreds followed and she felt herself being pulled fully into Quinn, Mercedes hugging her from behind, Mike pulling her hand across the table and gripping it comfortingly and Tina moving around the table to kiss her head and stroke her hair.

Santana walked in just in time to see them gather protectively around Brittany and if anything it made her feel worse. She knew she was shutting Brittany out. But she had to in order to protect her, she would be fine in a few days, just a few more days, and then she wouldn't ever have to tell Brittany.

Her hand was still on the door handle when Quinn turned her head and their eyes met across the cafeteria. Santana tightened her jaw, lifted her head and held Quinn's angry, questioning gaze for as long as possible before turning around and stalking back out through the doors.

* * *

><p>Santana spent the rest of the day purposefully avoiding Brittany and the rest of the Glee club as Mr. Benson's voice whispered 'rape' and 'depression' and 'suicide' into her ear. She walked towards the choir room at the end of the day, purposefully, determined to go.<p>

The non-corporeal Sebastian had seemingly decided that watching her implode all on her own insecurities whilst staying hidden, was much more fun than taunting her and she hadn't seen or felt him since Friday.

Although she was sure that the Glee club would all be on Brittany's side, it wouldn't be the first time she was in a room surrounded by people that hated her. She got as far as gripping the door handle, before she saw Brittany alone and slumped in a chair, elbows on knees, head in her hands while her feet brushed at the floor, drawing patterns no-one would see. Her heart ached, and the familiar feeling of not being brave enough for Brittany, not deserving her and self disgust for being the cause of how broken Brittany looked flooded her system.

She let go of the handle as if it had turned white hot, and stepped backwards. Her shoulders slumped and her head fell forwards into her hand, fingers pressed hard against her forehead.

"Running away again huh?" Santana's eyes closed in annoyance, and her teeth were set on edge by the way Quinn managed to sound judgemental, angry and caring all at once.

"It's not that simple Q. I just need a few days, and it'll be fine, I'll be back to normal." Santana was shocked at how soft her voice came out, but she still couldn't turn to face Quinn.

"So," Quinn paused, doubting if she even wanted to go down this road. "So, there _is _something the matter then? Brittany was…vague to say the least. She just said you were upset and went home, and now you're avoiding her." It all rushed out in one long breath, as if Quinn was worried that if she slowed just a little, Santana would take the chance to make her excuses and leave. Santana took two large gulps of air, praying that tears wouldn't fall, before straightening her shoulders and turning on the balls of her feet to face Quinn. "'Cos, you know, if there is something going on, you can talk to me about it. I'm not going to tell anyone or…or judge you." Santana crossed her arms in front of her chest and couldn't help but roll her eyes, of course Quinn would judge, how could she not?

"Whatever. It's nothing. Just –" She almost asked Quinn to make excuses for her to the rest of the club. "Never mind. I'm going home." They either wouldn't believe it or still blame her, and Brittany wouldn't feel better until Santana spoke to her personally. She walked away from Quinn, and before she even reached the end of the corridor, she heard Rachel's distinct, grating voice.

"Where's she going? Doesn't she know we have Glee? We need to be preparing for regionals! How can she be so selfish?" As soon as she knew she couldn't be seen, Santana's legs gave way and she slid down the wall to the floor. She shoved her hand into her mouth, teeth biting down hard to prevent the sobs wracking her body from escaping.

She would be fine in a few days.

She would be right?

* * *

><p>Brittany didn't hear or see Santana the next day – except fleetingly during Cheerio's practise, but even then she somehow avoided Brittany whilst still being present, it would have been impressed if it wasn't Brittany that was being avoided. She couldn't concentrate in any of her classes, and managed to spend twice as long walking between her classes as she was looking for Santana instead of where she was headed.<p>

Santana, however, couldn't seam to help but see Brittany. Every corner she turned, she could see the tall blonde's head turning, searching for her, ponytail bouncing behind. She didn't want to avoid her, but she just needed a little more time before she could be near Brittany again. And anyway, she reasoned, Brittany had the support of the Glee club, she would be okay without her for a couple of days.

Avoiding Brittany was going so poorly for Santana, she decided to spend her lunch break with Coach Sylvester and Becky working out new routines for the upcoming competition season and occasionally nodding to Coach Sylvester's scheming rants against the new swim coach.

Just another couple of days and everything would go back to normal.

* * *

><p>Brittany spent her lunch once again with two of everything on her tray, surrounded by the Glee club (minus Puck who was trying to get his 'stud back' with the freshmen Cheerio's) and not eating anything. Quinn tried to get her to cheer up, but the problem was, she wasn't sad. Well, not really. Mostly she was worried about what had caused Santana's behaviour and hurt that for some reason she was being shut out. She couldn't help but wonder if something more than the slushie had happened at Dalton, but that thought was like a stab to her heart and she came up with any number of other reasons for Santana's behaviour.<p>

"Britt? Britt honey, are you done?" Quinn's lilting voice broke Brittany's train of thought and the cafeteria came crashing in around her, the noise much louder and all the different colours much brighter and clashing than she remembered.

"Huh? No! I'm not just giving up on her 'cos she's being acting weird lately. I love her." Brittany's voice fell to a confused whisper as she watched Quinn's mouth twitch into a smile and her eyebrow quirk in amusement.

"I meant with lunch, I thought we could go for a walk before physics."

"Oh. 'Course. Duh." Brittany's face burned with embarrassment as she once again made herself sound stupid by her speedy reaction being based on her own line of thought. "One track mind." Quinn smiled, knowing that Brittany's reaction wasn't stupidity but because she could become completely focused on something when it was important, and everything else just bled into the background. "I was just – I was trying to figure out…yeah. A walk."

"I know, I know you like to focus on important things. You don't need to explain. Come on." She pushed Brittany's escaping fringe back and pulled her up, leading her out of the cafeteria and towards the football field. Quinn hated seeing Brittany so torn up about something, it hadn't been this bad since last year when Santana was denying how important Brittany was to her.

Quinn wanted to hate Santana, but she couldn't get the image of a broken looking Santana, and the painful softness of her voice, all the fight gone.

She wanted to hate Santana, but she couldn't.

They naturally drifted to the highest bleacher that was hidden by the score board. It was where the three of them had spent many an afternoon scheming, or rather, where Quinn spent many an afternoon scheming whilst Santana stared longingly and lovingly at Brittany who would respond in gentle teasing, brushing their arms and legs and fingers together. Quinn was hoping that it would relax Brittany enough to either open up or to at lest stop focusing so much on it.

"I saw Santana yesterday. She seamed…" Quinn didn't know how to put into words the Santana she saw outside of the choir room, and so she let the sentence hang, draping an arm over Brittany's shoulders when she slumped against her.

"She won't talk to me. I can see she's hurting. But she's not letting me in." Brittany's voice was bland, monotonic, but Quinn knew that it was Brittany's way of ending a conversation she didn't want to have and hiding how she was really feeling. Quinn pulled her arm tighter around Brittany and kissed the top of her head when she felt Brittany's body shake with tears.

"I'm sorry Brittany. I'm so sorry." Quinn wanted to hate Santana. But she knew she was hurting just as much as Brittany.

* * *

><p>Santana arrived at the choir room, late as planned, she needed to sit away from Brittany, she never could hide anything from her. As she walked across the threshold a blanket of silence dropped onto the room. It was a mixture of awkward, antagonistic and sympathetic, and it made her pause before she lifted her chin upwards and stalked to the back of the room, hands stuck into her Cheerio's jacket pocket. She tried to ignore Brittany, but her eyes were drawn like a magnet to her and seeing her reddened eyes and defeated body, mostly lent against Quinn, made her heart ache. It took all her strength to not move to the front and gather Brittany into her arms, to run her fingers through her hair, to whisper comforting and loving words into her ear. But if she did that, she would have to explain what happened.<p>

And she couldn't do that.

She couldn't even tell _herself_ what happened, and she couldn't bear seeing Brittany in any more pain. Seeing Brittany in more pain because of Santana.

Neither Brittany nor Santana had any idea what Mr Schuester and Rachel were talking about, paying attention to the other whilst trying to not seam like they were. As soon he ended, Santana rushed out, tears of shame prickling, whilst Brittany clung harder to Quinn and openly let her tears fall. The last thing Santana was aware of was Tina crouched in front of Brittany brushing away her tears and Mercedes calling her name.

* * *

><p>Santana spent the night seeing Brittany's hurt face when she shut her eyes and the picture of her happy and carefree when her eyes were open. She would be fine. Already Sebastian had stopped appearing completely and she was managing to only have two showers a day; still painfully hot so her skin ended up being blotchy and red and stinging. Sleep was still difficult. When she did manage to let her eyes slip closed and her brain go into neutral, images of Brittany's hurt face and the feel of Dalton's wall and the satisfying feeling of breaking her skin and the scratchy friction burn on her thigh would bombard her and she jolt awake, sweat covering her skin.<p>

But she would be fine.

Just another day.

Or two.

* * *

><p>Brittany spent the night sat up in bed, her sheets puddled around her hips with her legs crossed, enjoying the tingly slightly numbing feeling of pins and needels. In one hand she held her phone, happy pictures of Santana and her over the summer mocking her from the screen that was so bright it stung her eyes, and in the other she held a scuffed wooden box which contained every letter and note and small token of affection (like the pink wooden tulip she gave her when they were thirteen after Brittany had spent a day upset that she couldn't replant flowers from shops and so they would die without a chance to pollinate) she had ever gotten from Santana.<p>

Every time she remembered the fear in Santana's eyes, flashes of Tucker (whose face kept smudging and morphing into Sebastian's face) hovering over her at cheer camp and the fear that gripped her for months afterwards kept pushing into the room, like a hot tar.

Her tears were all used up, instead the thoughts just caused a throbbing ache in her heart and her eyes to burn. She have never wished harder to be wrong about something, and eventually her itchy, sore eyelids slid closed and she fell asleep, in the same position, the box clutched tightly against her chest.

* * *

><p>Until the end of the week, Santana continued trying to avoid Brittany and trying to brush off the angry, curious and (from Quinn, although she had no idea why) sympathetic looks from most of the Glee club. She was still going to Glee, but she had resorted to miming and wouldn't move from her seat at the back until the end of the lesson when she would be the first one out of the door.<p>

Brittany still looked out for Santana, but it was half-hearted and she spent most of the time with her arm twisted around Quinn's. Quinn still occasionally tried to get Brittany's smile to return, but she was never very successful at it. That had always been Santana's job, and instead she spent far too much time wiping the tears from Brittany's cheeks and forcing her to eat anything from the tray; still with two of everything.

Just in case.

Quinn wanted to hate Santana. She really did. But every time her emotions even got close to hatred, the Santana she had seen on Monday would make it dissipate and transfer into worry.

She wanted to hate Santana.

* * *

><p>It was Friday, history again, and Brittany was slumped over her desk, stubbornly staring at the side of Santana's face in the desperate hope that today, this lesson, would be the time that Santana would turn and face her, and that soft, wide, beautiful smile that was saved only for Brittany (and recently Quinn and Mercedes very occasionally too) would spread across her face.<p>

Santana was resolutely staring ahead, where she could just make out 'whore' on the board and mixtures between Sebastian's mocking laugh, Mr Benson's lecture and the football boys' response.

"Okay guys, we are going to continue on from Monday's lesson, your homework was to research the groups that encouraged the, err, carnal instincts shall we say, and the male perspective. Today, we are going to go over the female reactions that we have accounts of." Brittany saw Santana's body stiffen, her spine straightening, her chin lifting and her eyes became cold and distant. It reminded Brittany of when Santana was hiding who she was and it made her stomach churn, her eyes prickled and her hands itched to reach out for Santana's.

The rest of the classroom drifted out of Brittany's focus and the sounds became muffled, like she had been pushed underwater while everyone else stayed above the water.

Except Santana.

Santana stayed as clear and crisp as ever, and Brittany could still smell her perfume and feel the heat from Santana's skin.

"Are you okay?" Brittany couldn't help the whisper slip past her lips, and Santana's jaw clenched even tighter, Brittany could even see the tiny movements as she ground her teeth together. "God, that was a stupid question, I know you're not okay." Santana only increased her teeth grinding in response. "Stop grinding your teeth Sanny." Brittany reached out to gently brush the back of her index finger down Santana's cheek and along her jaw. Santana jumped away and just shook her head. Then, as if realising how she responded she instantly froze and gave one short nod.

"Yeah. Fine Britt." Brittany felt her heart lighten at the sound of Santana's voice, it almost didn't matter that she knew Santana was still lying and avoiding the question. She still ached to touch her though, she missed Santana hugely.

"Can…um, can I hold your hand…please? I miss you Sanny." It was hardly a whisper, but Brittany needed to ask, and she knew that it was more than loud enough for Santana, someone who was so attuned to her, to hear. Santana still didn't verbally answer her, but her right hand shifted slightly, her pinkie shakily extended, but the grip was tight and firm when Brittany curled her own around it. Brittany blew out a long breath of air she didn't even know she was holding on to and her shoulders relaxed hugely. It wasn't what she wanted, but it was so much more than she had had in almost a week.

"Okay, if everyone can look at the board, here is our first example of a testimony of a teenage girl in Berlin, an area where an estimated 100,000 rapes occurred." Mr. Benson's voice broke through, pulling Brittany from her protective underwater bubble with Santana, and Santana's finger jerked straight and her hand tugged forcefully away. "She talks about not only the physical pain of the actual attack, but she talks more about how she felt afterwards. She talks about how she saw the man who raped her several times over the following months, how she experienced what we now call phantom emotions, his cologne or the feel of his hands. She also explains how she lost her fiancé from the attack as he blamed her for the rape, and as society no longer deemed her pure, he refused to marry her. This was one of the extreme cases, and the young girl committed suicide about six months after she was raped." All Santana could hear was Mr Benson repeating rape, every time she felt a physical slap and she became increasingly nauseous until she couldn't stand it anymore. She slammed her folder closed, grabbed her bag and escaped from the classroom, Mr Benson's voice following her down the corridor as she headed to the senior Cheerio's locker room.

Brittany was so shocked by Santana's abrupt departure and by the classroom's apparent lack of awareness that for several long clock ticks she couldn't move. Her brain was still trying to process everything, making connections that she really wished she didn't have to.

All of a sudden she felt the chair beneath her move backwards, and the doorway becoming closer and closer. She didn't register that she was marching out of the classroom until the door to the locker room was cool and solid underneath her hand.

She took a deep, steadying breath and pushed gently, drawing the movement out for as long as possible; the sound of the door snapping closed behind her made Santana jump like it was at lest ten times louder.

"San?" Brittany's voice was tiny, barely a whisper, but it echoed, magnified around the empty locker room, bouncing off each metal locker and bench. "San, what's the matter?" Brittany reached Santana who was sat on one of the benches, her torso completely slumped over her legs, arms crossed between and her head pressed against her arms. She looked completely broken.

It scared Brittany more than she would ever admit.

"Santana, please, talk to me. Please. You're starting to scare me." Santana tucked herself tighter and her body started to shake as her sobs intensified. Brittany hesitantly reached a hand out, tracing her index finger, so gently she hardly made contact, along Santana's hairline, kept intact by the standard Cheerio's ponytail. "Whatever it is, whatever has happened, I won't think anything different of you I – oh god please Santana; please tell me what's wrong." The tears were starting to trip and trickle down Brittany's face, pooling at the skin around her nose and mouth. "Please." Her voice broke completely, and she angrily pulled her palm across her cheek to rid it of tears. Hearing the voice that offered Santana so much strength and love and support break because of her own weakness, caused Santana to she reach out blindly for Brittany, any part of her, just needing physical contact.

"Oh, god Britt. Britt." Their hands were tightly gripped between them, and feeling braver, Brittany's finger pressed more confidently along her shiny black hairline. "I can't – I can't tell you." She sat up, resting her free hand, cold and clammy, against Brittany's cheek, so warm and full of life. "I can't, _don't _want to hurt you any more." Her thumb brushed away the remaining tears on Brittany's cheek, and neither girl could stop their eyes from fluttering closed at the contact, the most intimate and longest contact they had had in days.

"Santana, it's hurting me seeing you like this. Surely telling me what's going on can't be any worse." Brittany's voice had turned begging and desperate, and the grip on Santana's hand would have been painfully tight in any other setting. Santana stood up; their still clasped hands made one arm pull away from her body, pulled at her skirt and straightened her shirt.

"No, it's nothing Britt." She rubbed at the corners of her eyes with her fingers to squeeze out the last of her tears, then used her thumbs to scrap them off her cheeks "See, not crying, no tears. I'm fine." She cleared her throat in an attempt to make her voice stronger, normal. "Nothing to tell. I'm fine." She forced a smile onto her face, but her eyes remained dark, swirling and frightened. Brittany stood up, anger flaring through her and she pulled her hand from Santana's loosened grip.

"No!" Brittany's shout surprised Santana into silence, and even Brittany jumped at the power and reverberation of her own voice. "Santana, you are _not _fine! Not the least little bit fine! You've barely spoken to me, you can't look at me, you won't kiss me. You're not _my _Santana!" She moved forwards, intending to reconnect their hands, but Santana shrunk back and Brittany halted, one leg in front of the other uncomfortably. "You're not my Santana right now, and I don't know where she's gone and you're not okay. You haven't been ever since…" She paused as her brain confirmed her suspicion, confirmed exactly when the change occurred, when Santana started pulling away. "Ever since…" She was sure now, she didn't pause because she was thinking, she paused because it hurt almost too much to finish. "Ever since you went to see Sebastian." She ended in a whisper, her eyes blurring and burning with tears. Santana still refused to speak, her mouth opened and closed uselessly.

"I'm fine –" She'd finally found her voice, but it was broken and weak and Brittany's frustrated angry exclamation easily cut through it.

"No! Santana, talk to me, tell me what the fuck is going on." Santana was shocked at Brittany swearing, and tried to once again reassure Brittany, but felt her head shake involuntarily as her eyes dropped to the floor. Brittany continued to stare at her with determined blue eyes. "Don't shut me out Santana! I can't handle being shut out again. Please, just tell –"

"I was raped!" It didn't matter that this was what Brittany had suspected. Santana's yelled words slapped Brittany hard across her face and made her whole body freeze in shock as cold, painful frost spread through her veins. Santana clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes widened. But it was too late, they were out. And now that she had said it once, she couldn't stop, like her tongue was getting revenge on her for having stayed so silent. "Oh god, I was raped. He raped me. Oh god oh god oh god. He raped me. Britt –" The sound of her name, weak and broken from her girlfriend's lips, shattered the coldness that had twisted through her body, and she crossed over to Santana, pulled her down onto the floor and into her lap, attempting to protect Santana from her own painful words. Santana gripped at Brittany's Cheerio's shirt, knuckles turning white, as the words continued to tumble from her lips. Brittany started to move her body, gently rocking backwards and forwards, fingers stroking at dark, slightly coarse hair and her lips searched out the shell of Santana's tanned ear.

"Santana, oh Santana, my Santana, I'm so sorry." Brittany couldn't help the tears and sobs that were combining with Santana's in the resonating room. "Why didn't you tell me Santana? I could have helped you get through this better, like you helped me, like I needed you to help me, like you _did _help me. My Santana, I love you so much Sanny." Brittany kept repeating Santana's name in the hope that it would stop her ramblings, that it would remind her that Brittany was the one holding her, that she would never be judged or thought less of, that Brittany loved her and cared for her above anyone else.

Neither of them knew how long they sat in that position on the floor. Brittany cross legged, her shoulder blades pressed into the edge of the bench, her fingers running through dark hair and her arms tightly around Santana who was curled up in Brittany's lap, head pressed against her clavicle and her hands fisting her shirt. Brittany continued to repeat Santana's name and 'I love you's into her ear whilst her sobs slowly reduced into sporadic hiccups and her vice like grip loosened until her hands flopped into her own lap, exhausted.

Brittany felt the muffled thump and looked down at Santana, who seamed so much smaller curled up in her lap. "Come on Sanny. Let's go home before any of the other Cheerio's come in yeah?" She felt Santana's head nod against her chest and forced her right arm under Santana's legs, while her left arm went around Santana's back lifting them both from the floor. She felt Santana's arms wind around her neck and cling tightly as she pulled herself up pressing a kiss to Brittany's cheek.

"I can walk Britt. I can manage." Her lips and whispered words tickled at Brittany's cheek, who couldn't help but to nuzzle as close as possible to Santana's lips. She reached the door and gently let Santana's legs slip from her grasp to thud on the floor, the arm around her back slipping to twist their arms together. She didn't pull away and only tensed slightly and Brittany felt a little glimmer of hope swell.

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><p>Santana had no idea where to start explaining what happened, or how to explain it and Brittany knew that Santana had to begin the conversation. She knew that if she didn't, Santana would just shy away from the subject and try to – unsuccessfully – persuade Brittany that she was fine; that it wasn't really that big of a deal.<p>

"Just, take your own time, I'm here to listen, and you can tell me anything…everything. If you want to." Brittany's voice curled around Santana like a familiar, favourite blanket and she instantly felt calmer, safer. They sat on Brittany's bed, fingers brushing and teasing between them in a gentle silence as Santana focused on Brittany's pale yellow sheets and Brittany's eyes swept over Santana softly in silence for several minutes until Santana lifted her eyes up to Brittany's and opened her mouth.

Once the words stared, at first haltingly and unsure, they began to tumble from Santana's lips fast and faster, bringing with them a feeling of numbness and tranquillity Santana didn't expect. It was like she was talking about something that happened to someone else, to one of those eastern European women after the war. It wasn't until she finally, slowly, moved her eyes upwards to look at Brittany's face that the pain and humiliation and shame hit her like a battering ram and she fell in Brittany's outstretched arms, clutching at the comfort and strength she offered. Santana felt hot tears fall onto her face both from her own eyes and from Brittany's, and even through all the negative emotions streaming through her body, feeling the tears combine as they trickled down her cheek, she felt her heart click back whole and hope fluttered through her.

Brittany just held her, and ran her fingers through her hair that Brittany had at some point pulled from its ponytail. Comforting and loving and supportive words flowed from Brittany's mouth and pooled around Santana pushing away all of her self disgust and shame.

Santana sat up slightly so that she was supporting her own weight whilst still occupying each others space, and took several deep breathes. She opened and closed her mouth uselessly, like everything she had just poured out and worn out her vocal chords, until she finally found her voice. "How can you be so…" She searched for the right words to properly express what she was feeling. Her hands moved around uncontrollably and Brittany knew she was nervous, confused, scared. "Be so calm, so okay about all of this?" Brittany cocked her head and frowned gently, unsure what Santana was trying to say. "I mean, what I did was –" She was cut off by Brittany's eyes shinning with unshed tears and her index finger pressed firmly against Santana's lips while her other reached out for Santana's still twisting hand.

"No." Brittany's voice was firm, but her voice broke when she tried to speak again and she had to clear her throat and take several deep breaths before she could continue. "No. _You _didn't do anything. This wasn't your fault and there was nothing you could have done to stop it. Okay Santana. Nothing." Santana didn't move, her fingers gripping at Brittany's desperately while her watery eyes stared at the sheets. Brittany moved her free hand to beneath Santana's chin and leant forward so that their noses were brushing and their breath mixed, swirling and dancing in the small space between them.

"Santana," Brittany's voice was gentle and whispered. "Look at me. I need you to look at me, so you know how truthful everything I say is." Santana squeezed her eyes shut and Brittany's heart fell, until wet, dark brown surrounded by startling white was the only thing she could see. "Remember when this almost happened to me? How I started to believe everything that people were staying? That it was my fault, and every night before I feel asleep you would tell me that I couldn't have done anything different and that you would always be there for me. And once you thought I was asleep you would tell me that you loved me." Santana sniffed loudly, her mouth falling open to get air into her lungs and her head nodded. "_You _couldn't have done anything different Santana. _I _will always be there for you and _I _will always love you." Brittany wiggled her nose in what Santana called a mouse kiss then pressed a firm kiss to the side of her mouth. "Understand?" Another kiss to the other side of Santana's mouth.

"Yeah."

"And, I don't, I'm not…" Brittany let out a frustrated sigh, it always felt to her that the more important her words needed to be, the harder she found it to articulate everything in the right order, and not just let all the words tumble out in any order. "I don't…pity you." Santana's brow crinkled in confusion and a flash of hurt spiked her eyes. "No, I mean. God, I'm saying this all in the wrong order." She pressed another kiss to Santana's mouth and took a large deep breath. "When Tucker tried to rape me," Santana cringed from the word. "No, I know it's horrible to hear, but you _have _to Santana. When Tucker tried to rape me, one of the worst feelings, once the…shame…and horribleness had gone, was that people would look at me like I was…like I was a victim or…or something to be pitied. I don't pity you Santana. Because there is nothing to be pitied. The rape," Brittany paused, her eyes flickered over Santana's face, pleased to see that the discomfort was smaller. "It was horrible and not your fault, and you were a victim then, but…but not now, you're strong, you're the strongest person I know. Everything you went through with your Abuela and how it didn't make you leave me or be ashamed of how…wonderful you are. God Santana, I was so proud. You are not a victim, and I'm not going to let you think it for one moment. You are strong, and I'm always going to be here for you. I'm going to be here when you feel like you can't sleep, I will stay up and talk on the phone or come over and hold you until you go to sleep or kiss you until your so tired that your body just…forces you to go to sleep. And…I think that we should talk to someone. Or you should. We should. Whatever you want." Brittany felt exhausted, she was much better at showing what she was feeling, but she knew the importance of _saying _what she feeling. And she was worried about how Santana would react.

"I…Britt," Santana closed her eyes, but there were no more tears and her mouth twitched into a smile. "I don't know what to say. Thank you." Brittany nodded against Santana's face, pulling her closer gently and not so tight that Santana would feel trapped. They sat, twisted around each other, as much contact as possible for close to an hour. The light in the room started to fade, and the breeze that swirled around the room turned cooler, pricking at their skin causing goose bumps. Santana pressed against Brittany closer and hummed contentedly.

"Britt?" Her voice was slightly croaky from lack of use and the sleepiness that had washed over them. She waited until she felt a hum vibrate through Brittany's chest before continuing. "I don't know…I don't know if I can talk to someone." She felt Brittany tense and heard an intake of air as she opened her mouth to argue. "No. Wait, hear me out please. It's too hard right now, I mean, I couldn't even tell you, how am I supposed to tell some stranger? I promise, I swear to you Britt, that I will…just…let me do it at my own pace. Please?" Brittany was hesitant to agree, she knew how important talking to someone was, especially someone who was not only trained in dealing with emotions but also had no other connections within their lives. But she also knew that pushing Santana too much, too soon, would cause her to retreat and to bottle in order to protect herself, so she nodded her head slowly, hoping that it wouldn't take too long.

"Okay. Okay." Brittany pulled at her shoulder slightly so that they were laid down together, limbs entwined and noses touching. "You're so beautiful. You know that right? Inside and out. Beautiful. And I love you, more than I've loved anyone else. And that includes Charity and Lord Tubbington." Santana couldn't help the soft giggle that escaped her lips and she snuggled closer to Brittany. The room was almost completely dark now, and they still hadn't moved, when the chime of the doorbell made Santana jump. Brittany smiled reassuringly and pressed a soft long kiss to Santana's forehead. "I'll be right back Dollface. Stay there okay?"

Santana heard Brittany's feed pound down the stairs, running like she always did ever since Santana had known her. The familiar sound made her smile, but it froze and her body tensed when she heard Brittany's surprised voice wind through the house.

"Quinn?"

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><p>AN: I hope this was okay everyone! Reviews would be very much appreciated, just so that I know that I'm doing everything okay and that it's still any good, if it ever was haha! Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I am so sorry this took two weeks! I completely forgot that I had a weekend long orchestra rehearsal last weekend, so I didn't manage to get any writing done then!

Thank you to everyone who has read/favourited/alerted/reviewed this so far, it really does feel awesome every time I get an email notification telling me someone new is reading this!

I hope you all like this chapter, and thanks for reading and any reviews in advance :D

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><p>Quinn had noticed that not only was Santana missing for the afternoon, but Brittany too, including at Glee and figured that Santana had finally talked to Brittany.<p>

Or that she had finally hurt Brittany so badly that even _she _wouldn't forgive her and they had both gone home – separately – to mope.

Santana and Quinn had defiantly had a turbulent friendship, but Brittany was an important friend, and Quinn had been privy to what she referred to as 'Brittany's Santana'. The Santana that made up lullaby's for Brittany when she couldn't sleep, the one that would listen to everything Brittany would say and take the time to understand it, the one that would help Brittany through English and Spanish class and beam with pride at every aced maths, science and sports result she got. So she cared that Santana seamed to have been going through, even if sometimes it was only because when Santana was upset that meant that Brittany was upset.

Once Glee had finished and neither one of her friends were answering their mobiles, Quinn debated between going home and going to find them. She drove past Santana's house (the closest by a total of one road) four times and opened and closed her car door half a dozen times before she edged towards the door and pressed her finger to the doorbell. But the house was completely dark, apart from the safety light in porch, and no one answered, so Quinn drove onto Brittany's house and walked slowly up the pathway fingers nervously playing with her car keys.

She didn't really know exactly why she was nervous. Maybe because broken Santana was still the scariest side of Santana she had seen. Maybe because she was afraid that Santana's attitude adjustment had finally broken Brittany's patience. Or maybe just because she was desperate for them to be okay again when she was finally trying to sort out her own future and finding out things about herself. She needed her happy Brittany, and consequently a bearable Santana, back. She lifted the knocker twice (a lions head with a bright pink sparkly tongue and red sticker eyes that Brittany and Santana 'improved' one Halloween) and when that didn't get a response she held her finger to the doorbell, until the unmistakable pounding of Brittany running down the stairs (she always said stairs were to be taken as fast and exhilaratingly as possible) and she pulled her hand away, shoving them both into her pockets.

The door swung open hesitantly, and Brittany's head appeared in the gap. When she saw Quinn, she opened the door wider, her face scrunching into pleased confusion.

"Quinn?" She switched from foot to foot and then leant against the doorframe in feigned comfort.

"Hey Britt, I um, noticed that you and Santana weren't in school this afternoon. And no one is at her house. Is…is everything okay?"

"Yeah, her parents are at some…experimental drug conference." Brittany was deliberately avoiding Quinn's main question. She always hated lying to Quinn, especially about Santana, but this wasn't something she could tell, or even hint about to Quinn. Only Santana could.

Quinn waited for Brittany to finish, and cocked her eyebrow with a small smile gracing her lips. "And Santana? Is she, are you _both _okay? She's here right?" Brittany nodded slowly and bit at her nails nervously.

"Yeah. She's here. We um, left, because, well, Lord Tubbington is trying to quit smoking, and I didn't trust him to not go and get some smokes and I can't hold him back by myself, he's put on even more weight since quitting, and so Santana offered to help." Brittany was speaking monotonically and avoiding Quinn's eyes, an obvious sign, along with her obfuscating, that she was answering Quinn's question without actually answering it at all.

"Really Britt? It's me. I know you're not stupid."

"I know. But that's-" She was stopped by a tanned hand pulling at Brittany's hand in her mouth interlacing their fingers and Santana's head resting on her shoulder.

"It's okay Britt. She can come in. I mean. If she wants. Or whatever." Santana's voice was still unusually quiet and broken sounding, but she looked better and less afraid than outside the choir room, and Quinn nodded, her smile increasing genuinely. "Whatever. Come on Fabray." She tugged at Britt's hand who willingly followed Santana back up the stairs.

"Close the door, please, Q." Brittany called quietly over her shoulder. Quinn hummed in agreement and had to hold back the giggle at Brittany's obvious staring at Santana's arse and legs as she followed her upwards. By the time Quinn reached Brittany's room, they were both already sitting comfortably on her bed, Santana curled like a cat in Brittany's lap and she patted the space near the end for Quinn.

"Come on Fabray. Britt cared enough to leave you space. Sit." Quinn hesitated again. It wasn't that she didn't want to join them, in fact this easy, yell-free reunion was more than she could have hoped for, but this was a big part of her plan for getting her life back, and she almost couldn't believe that Santana was handing it to her on a plate. It wasn't until Brittany held out the hand that had been trailing up and down Santana's back and wiggled her fingers that she smiled and bounced, actually bounced, onto the bed.

Santana had already tucked herself back into Brittany (Quinn couldn't help but notice just how small and fragile Santana looked in Brittany's lap) whose arms encircled her protectively, fitting together so effortlessly in a way they had always done, a way that had always made Quinn jealous. But now, it made her feel warm, content. Like the love pulsing between them was so strong that she couldn't help but be touched by it, feel it draped around her shoulders and trickling between her fingers. The silence was so comforting, but Quinn's curiosity was burning, the questions bubbling in her throat. "So, are you okay? Both of you? Either of you? I mean what happened? Are you okay?" She couldn't help that her questions tumbled out at once and that, Santana at lest, didn't get at lest half of them. She tensed, her eyes squeezed shut, in preparation for Santana's signature annoyed glare and Brittany's confused scrunch-y face, her head tilted to the side. But instead she was met with Brittany's musical giggle and Santana, unmoved, still moulded against Brittany. Quinn led out a loud, shuddered breath and smiled softly. "I'm sorry. I just…You've been acting so different S, scary different, and Britt, you've cried more these past few days that I've seen you cry in forever. I was worried about you guys." Brittany smiles wide pulling Santana closer and resting her head on Santana's crown and weaving their fingers together.

"No one breaks up the Unholy Trinity Q." Santana's voice was soft, and slightly muffled from the fabric of Brittany's shirt, but it was firm and she saw Brittany nod her head in confirmation. But they still didn't answer Quinn's question, and she tried to not ask them again. At lest not quite as frantically.

"So…" Quinn let the question hang in the hope that one of them would answer it. She pulled at the blanket underneath her and shuffled uncomfortably her eyes drawn to where the notches on the bedpost had all being filled, baring two, one with a tiny 'A' next to it and one with a bigger 'S' and flowers and hearts next to it. "Are you okay?"

Santana sighed heavily and moved her hand so that her fingers were pressed against Brittany's jaw. "Britt, can you, I mean, I don't think I can. Not again. If she wants to know, tell her. If, well, if that's okay?" Brittany walked her fingers along Santana's arm, pushed her fingers through the gaps in Santana's fingers and pulled them towards her lips.

"Yeah Dollface." She hushed and pressed a soft kiss to Santana's hand. She cleared her throat as if preparing for a speech and nervously pulled Santana closer, then started to rock slightly, Quinn's head tilted to the side intrigued. She had seen a lot of their behaviour, even behaviour that happened when they thought no one was watching, but she had never seen this. She couldn't help but notice that Santana both relaxed and curled tighter into Brittany and she smiled. "Okay. So, um, yeah we're okay Q. Or, well, I mean, we are, but we will be too." Quinn's face wrinkled in confusion and Brittany sighed in frustration. "This is why I shouldn't explain things Dollface, no one else understands me." Santana smiled and kissed Brittany's shoulder, nudging Brittany's jaw with her nose. "Okay. I mean, something horrible happened and…and we're better, but not completely fixed. But we will be. Does that make more sense?" Quinn dipped her head in agreement and smiled, waiting for Brittany to go on. "Good. Um…I, I don't really know how to start this." Brittany fell silent and Santana tensed, looking down at their linked fingers.

"I'm sorry Britt. I can, I shouldn't have asked you to do it. This is my problem." Santana sat up slightly so that her cheek rested against Brittany's warm, flushed one, but she couldn't bring herself to look Quinn in the eye. "This was my mistake, I can tell her."

"No. No this wasn't your mistake. It wasn't a mistake." Brittany wriggled and shuffled until they were back in their original positions and looked determinedly at Quinn, her thumb stroking along Santana's cheek absentmindedly. "I'll just start at the beginning. Did you notice when Santana…" Brittany still didn't know how to describe Santana's change, instead moving her head from side to side and shifting her eyes from Quinn's shoulder and back to her eyes in the hope that she would understand.

"Yeah, well, I think. It was a little after Blaine got slushied right?"

Brittany nodded and Santana gripped her hand tightly. "Well, you know how no one wanted to do anything about it? Except maybe sing another song and have a group hug." Quinn snorted and couldn't help the grin that pulled at her lips. "Well, Santana had a plan, she was going to go to Dalton and force Sebastian to admit that they had messed with the slushie and record him saying it, secretly, and then we would have proof, and then Mr Schue would _have _to do something about it all. And not just a meeting about how we are better than them." They fell into silence and Santana pulled her eyes towards Brittany's, both of them smiling gently at the other and Brittany's index finger traced over Santana's cheek bones, her jaw, the bridge of her nose, her lips and the curve of her eyebrows. Quinn felt a flood of pride and warmth at seeing how far they – well, Santana really, Brittany always knew that she loved Santana and didn't care who knew it – and simultaneously uncomfortable; like she was breaking their intimacy bubble, tainting it with her presence. Santana kissed Brittany's finger and their foreheads rested against each other for seconds before Brittany turned back towards Quinn and opened her mouth. The words tumbled and swirled around Quinn like a stream from Brittany. Sometimes so fast and jumbled and loud and powerful that Quinn had trouble understanding them, not quite able to hear every single word, the meanings trickling down her skin, slipping through her pores, pricking at her brain until her heart ached. Sometimes the words were so slow and so forced and so quiet like Brittany was experiencing Santana's pain and hurt and Quinn could feel the anger crackle throughout her. The last word bounced around the room, Santana now flush tightly against Brittany; if their skin tones weren't so contrasting Quinn wouldn't be able to separate them.

Suddenly Brittany shifted forward, dragged her thumb across Quinn's cheek, then pulled her close sandwiching herself between the other two.

"Oh Quinn. Let it out." Brittany continued to whisper comforting words and held her close, her wrist twisted so that her thumb continued to brush away the salty tears. Not that anyone in Glee club would know, but Brittany had always being the 'mother' of the three of them. She was so perfect at reading emotional situations and the best way of making people feel comfortable (or uncomfortable if she didn't like them or wanted to punish them) that both Quinn and Santana found comfort through her.

Eventually Quinn untangled herself (they had been in that position for so long, even Santana's fingers were resting between Quinn's on Brittany's leg) pulling at the skin under her eyes. "I'm okay. I'm good. San, I, God I'm so sorry." Quinn had a hundred more things to say but was shocked into silence by the stern look Brittany was giving her.

"No." Her voice was far harder than Quinn had ever heard and her mouth opened and closed in confusion. "No. Santana isn't a victim. Not now, not in the future. When Tucker tried to rape me," Brittany was pleased Santana only tensed her hands. "The worst was when people looked at me like I was some helpless pitiful victim. I wasn't. Santana isn't. She's strong." Santana sat up and pressed her fingers against Brittany's lips, smiling adoringly at her.

"I think she gets it B. And by that stupid ass fish impression, I think you've shocked her into silence." Santana turned to look at Quinn, her eyes glinting softly.

"Sorry Q." Brittany's voice was back to normal and Quinn's muscles relaxed and she smiled back.

"No, I understand B. But can I be sorry that it happened? And think that Sebastian is a horrible, horrible person?" Brittany nodded and gently pushed Santana from her lap. The room was blanketed in darkness and Brittany slid in her sleep socks on the hardwood floor to the light switch. After she flicked it on she slid over to the chest of draws and pulled out three sets of sleep clothes, throwing two on the floor and the third on the top of the drawers. She turned back to face the bed then pulled off her Cheerio's uniform. Quinn felt a small heat flood her cheeks and she quickly averted her gaze to the blanket on the bed. She was used to girls changing in front of her, after being on Cheerio's and in dance groups for so long she _had _to become comfortable with girls confidently stripping down, changing costumes or removing layers. But watching Santana watch Brittany, her hands fisted in her lap, legs tightly crossed, lips between her teeth and dark eyes flickering lovingly over Brittany's slowly exposed skin, she once again felt like she was intruding on them. She didn't lift her eyes until she heard the gently swish of Brittany's socks and the dip of the bed as she sat down. Brittany had a set of sleepwear in each hand and tucked her legs underneath her as she lent her body against Santana.

"Are you going to stay Quinn? I've got extra sleep stuff?" Quinn's eyes flickered between the clothes in Brittany's outstretched hand, the little green luminescent numbers of her clock (they read 10:47, and Quinn couldn't help but wonder where the hell the evening went) and Santana, who was avoiding Quinn's eyes pulling the sleep shirt over her head (Ohio State Contemporary Dance Competition 2010 on the front, and, Quinn knew, PIERCE First Place on the back, the obvious ownership through Brittany's choice in shirt amused Quinn) and nodded emphatically.

"Yeah. That would be really nice B." Before the numbers had moved to read 11pm they were all three curled under the covers, Brittany in the middle, a protective arm around each of them, Santana and Brittany's legs tangled intricately. At some point, Santana's arm slid across Brittany's abdomen and her fingertips pressed against Quinn's.

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><p>Quinn awoke first a chill spread along her body. She begrudgingly opened one eye and discovered the reason for the drop in temperature. At some point Brittany had turned away from her curling her whole body around Santana's their noses touching. She laughed at being excluded unintentionally, and gently pulled herself from the bed, stretching her arms high above her head and pulled on her clothes.<p>

She moved off to lean against Brittany's desk, her eyes resting on her two friends curled around each other, legs still twisted, fingers interlaced, connected from head to toe. Santana still looked impossibly small, and Quinn felt a sharp ache at the memory of what Santana had gone through. She couldn't believe how much pain Santana must have felt and locked up inside herself, letting it eat away at her little by little, so much suffering and self loathing that she couldn't even tell Brittany. Quinn reached across the bed, brushed some of Brittany's hair from her face and pressed her palm softly against Santana's cheek before she left, the shirt and shorts folded on Brittany's desk chair, with a post it note on top.

"You guys had stolen all the covers, and were way too adorable to wake up. I'll be back later if that's okay? Text me and let me know. I can bring movies and dots if you want?

Q

X"

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><p>Santana woke a couple of hours later, strong, warm arms around her torso sprinkles of sunshine against her eyelids and a feeling of being watched pricking at her skin. But it felt comforting, peaceful. It was the first morning she had woken after not only a full night's sleep but without fear or cold sweat prickling at her skin. Brittany noticed the shift in Santana's breathing and pulled her closer, fingers running up and down her spine.<p>

"Good morning Dollface. Did you sleep well?" Brittany's voice slid across Santana's lips and she nuzzled closer, nodding and sighing contentedly.

"So good Beautiful." Santana's voice was scratchy with sleep and her tongue slid along her dry, slightly cracked lips making Brittany's stomach clench in want and happiness. "I always sleep better with you." Santana let her eyelids flutter open and found blue eyes looking right back at her, bright and calm and loving. Santana pulled her hand from between them fingers scratching and pulling at the skin behind Brittany's ear, who hummed in pleasure, the sound vibrating in her throat like a cats purr. "Did, um, was I the reason you were crying?" Santana's small voice made Brittany's brow crinkle in confusion. "Q said you had cried loads this week. Was it 'cos of me?"

"Oh." Brittany turned her head slightly so that Santana's fingers would continue to press and stroke and scratch at the skin behind Brittany's ear. "Well, kinda, I suppose. I was upset because I didn't know what was happening but I knew that you were hurting. It was like last year, only, so much worse. At lest then I knew a little of what was going on. You just, you shut down on me. Completely." Brittany's eyes pulled down to the side where their fingers were still teasing each others. "It scared me. It scared me so much Santana. I didn't know what -" She was cut off by Santana's mouth crashing against her own, messy, wet, teeth crashing and not quite aligned correctly. But it was perfect, and Brittany couldn't help the rumble of a moan in her throat. Her hands slid over Santana's back then moved her fingers down her spine increased pressure on each protrusion. She reached Santana's tail bone, lips still connected, slower and calmer now, palms resting almost flat on her arse and instantly Santana stiffened. Her body shuffled, wriggeled and their lips unstuck, yesterdays persistent lip gloss smudged and mixed, lips swollen and darkened.

"I can't. I'm sorry. Not yet. Please. I can't. God, I can't." Santana's words bubbled over like water from a hose pipe under pressure. "I'm sorry Britt. I can't. I can't. I'm sorry. I'm not –" Brittany was shocked at first, after all, Santana had initiated the kiss, a kiss that was desperate and loving and lustful all at once. But as soon as the stream of words reached her, her heart clenched and she reached forward, with a single finger, to press against Santana's lips.

"Shh, I understand." She ran her finger across Santana's cheek until both her hands were resting behind Santana's ears, thumbs still on her cheeks and fingers reaching into her hair. "I understand. It's okay Sanny, you don't need to explain. I know remember?" The wildness in Santana's eyes died away and she tilted forward slightly so that their foreheads were pressed against one another's. She nodded and closed her eyes, pressing harder against Brittany. "How about we go and get breakfast? My parents will be at my sister's football game, so we have a couple of hours before they'll be home." Suddenly Brittany's mind shot to the small tape in her bag. She desperately wanted to ask Santana about it, but it wasn't the right time, everything was too raw and exposed.

Soon.

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><p>It wasn't until Quinn text Brittany, asking if it was still okay if she came over that they remembered that Quinn had been with them last night. It was close to one in the afternoon, and they were still alone, Ashley, after helping to win the match (apparently, Brittany was less than convinced), had been invited to a pool party (which Brittany thought was ridiculous, it's January! Like, full on winter, but it meant that she got more time alone with Santana so she didn't question Ashley) with her other team mates and their parents. Brittany turned her phone towards Santana before replying, letting Santana know that it was her decision. She smiled slightly and nodded before grabbing the phone in one hand and sliding the fingers of her other between Brittany's now empty ones as she replied.<p>

'Yeah Q come over whenever. Bring Dots. And movies. S + B'

Santana pressed send and pulled Brittany back up the stairs by her fingertips, somehow their grip still crocodile-strong, until they sat side by side on Brittany's bed; legs pressed together, shirt sleeves rustling and skin warm and pulsing where they touched.

They were still sitting like that, in perfect silence when Quinn let herself into the house, lightly ran up the stairs and stopped, leant against the doorframe of Brittany's room. Brittany noticed her first, eyelids flickering open and she smiled, a smile that widened when Quinn held up the box of Dots and shook it gently.

"You always make so much noise Fabray!" Santana opened a single eye and glared at Quinn, but it didn't hold the venom of a true Lopez glare, and her tone was amused. Brittany smoothed her hair back and shushed her while simultaneously reaching out and wiggled her fingers for the box of Dots. Quinn couldn't help the giggle that bubbled through her throat and she threw the box towards Brittany while she walked towards the DVD player, folding herself onto the floor, placing all the DVDs in front of her.

"You didn't get my note did you?" Brittany looked away from Santana and her forehead scrunched in confusion, her head tilted. When Quinn didn't elaborate, Brittany just shrugged and shook her head. Quinn forced the air through her nose and stood, reached towards the desk chair and pulled off the post-it note before she flicked it towards the end of the bed. Brittany leant forwards and pressed her finger against the adhesive to lift it in front of her eyes. Santana's eyes had never left Brittany, and she couldn't help but laugh, not even caring what the note said.

"Aww, Q thinks we're adorable Sanny!"

"I distinctly remember saying 'were' adorable." Quinn smiled slightly before twisting back towards the TV screen and the pile of DVDs.

"Pfft Brittany's _always _adorable, especially when she sleeps." Quinn heard Brittany giggle and the rustling of the Dots box as Brittany searched for all of the orange ones for Santana, the lemon ones for herself and the strawberry ones for Quinn. All the other flavours would be grouped together by flavour on the ripped, flattened Dots box for anyone to eat.

They had split sweets this way ever since Quinn met them; Brittany told her it was because the first box of Dots she had ever eaten was with Santana, who told her, to get the best taste was to eat as many Dots as possible of the same flavour in one mouthful. (Although, she whispered to Quinn much, much later, it had more to do with Santana's need for organisation and uniformity than anything else as she grouped all her food together, different foods not touching on her plate and everything eaten in an order. Brittany thought it was adorable and took every possible opportunity to watch Santana sort her food this way.)

Quinn swivelled her head once again to face them on the bed and grinned at their comfortable domesticity. "So, what film?"

* * *

><p>They walked into the choir room, hands swinging between them, and Santana was more than surprised when Mike and Tina smiled and waved towards them before turning back to Kurt and Blaine who both nodded in acknowledgement, Kurt with a small smile.<p>

"Nice to see you two being sickeningly sweet again Satan." Mercedes voice reached them from the back of the choir room where she was unsuccessfully trying to look unaware of Sam's hand off the edge of her chair. Santana smiled gently back and nodded her head in acknowledgement before they both moved to sit by Quinn at the back.

"Thanks for this weekend Q. It was really nice." Brittany whispered as Santana lent against her shoulder and nodded slightly without looking at Quinn. Quinn nodded and hummed in agreement, her eyebrows creasing in confusion when she felt something stiff and scratchy being pressed into her palm. She looked down at her hand, but was stopped by Brittany's hands closing tighter around it and Mr Schuester walked into the room.

* * *

><p>'<em>Quinn, I need to talk to you about something important, but without Santana. Can you come to mine after Glee tomorrow and we can talk when she goes for her run? Please? B x'<em>

* * *

><p>Quinn sat awkwardly on the bed, hearing the distant sounds of Brittany kissing Santana goodbye and walking heavily and slowly back up the stairs. Brittany stopped in the doorway of her room, leant against the doorframe and tugged self consciously at the sleeves of Santana's hoodie that she had pulled on as soon as they got home. She couldn't quite reach Quinn's eyes, instead focused on the window that was still letting in the pale yellow of the winter sun. They stayed in silence for several minutes before Quinn unfolded herself from the blanket and walked over to her. She took Brittany's hand in her own and walked backwards, tugging Brittany along with her until they were both sitting on the edge of the bed.<p>

"What's up B? What did you need to talk to me about?" Quinn's voice was quiet and she pushed back Brittany's fringe.

"I need your help. Santana, she, she won't go and talk to someone about the rape. I mean, she said she would eventually, but I don't know if I believe her. 'Cos she also said she doesn't need to and that she doesn't want some random knowing what happened. And I get that. I really, really get that. But, but…" Brittany's voice wavered and broke as distinct tears fell.

"But she needs to talk to someone about it to get past it." Quinn whispered as her thumbs brushed away Brittany's tears and she pulled the girl towards her. Brittany nodded into her shoulder and clung tightly to Quinn. "It's okay Britt, we'll think of something. It's okay." Neither moved until they heard the front door open, and Brittany's mother great Santana. Brittany stumbled over to the sink in the corner of her room and splashed water on her face to try and hide any evidence of her tears.

It didn't work though, Santana still rushed over to Brittany and held her face in her hands, but Brittany just smiled, covered Santana's hands with her own and whispered about being tired. Quinn was sure that Santana didn't truly believe her, but Brittany just pressed her lips against each of Santana's hands and suggested they watch a film in bed.

Quinn cleared her throat, uncomfortable at both the intimate moment she had just been privy to and the one she was about to intrude upon, and walked towards the door. But she was stopped by Santana who silently tugged on her wrist and Brittany nodded towards the bed and the three sets of short and sleep shirts.

That night they slept, tangled together, like they had a cheerleading camp when they were fourteen, pulling comfort and reassurance from each other.

* * *

><p>Although Santana and Brittany were back to normal, giggling and sharing private touches and looks and occasional chaste kisses, Santana's mood in general hadn't improved. She had managed to make several Cheerio's cry from her overly blunt and sometimes cruel critiquing, and she still couldn't manage to sing. Every time she opened her mouth to do so, the words would get stuck in her throat, her mind flicking back to the clean walls and the cold wooden floor of the Dalton room and Sebastian's otherwise bland voice that had so quickly caused her pain. And so she settled instead for staring quietly at Brittany and glaring whenever she caught someone else's eye.<p>

Brittany had noticed that Santana was acting like last year, like she was two different Santana's, one just for Brittany (and Quinn, sometimes even Mercedes, Mike and Tina) and the other for everyone else. She wanted to ask her about the tape and plead with her to talk to someone, a proper someone, but the words would get stuck in her throat and her brain would start to work too fast for her to speak in the right order, and she would just feel stupid and pull Santana closer to her; occasionally kissing her temple or her hands until Santana would smile and Brittany could pretend that there was nothing wrong, that the other Santana didn't exist.

Until the next time Santana needlessly snapped at someone, or glared at them when she thought they were too close to Brittany. And Brittany would once again want to question and plead.

But she couldn't.

Didn't.

She didn't know how to do it without breaking or hurting _her _Santana.

So she said nothing, and pulled Santana closer. A kiss to each hand.

* * *

><p>Brittany's hand shook as she reached forwards, but the knock was firm, confident. Her fingers traced over the handle until a curt 'Come' reached her and she took a deep steadying breath before she pushed downwards and opened the door.<p>

Coach Sylvester glanced over her glasses to see who had entered but instantly returned her gaze to the papers on her desk. Brittany momentarily wondered if they were really that important or whether Sue just wanted feign indifference and emphasise her power, until a small, cool hand pressed down onto her shoulder and her knees bent until she was sat on the uncomfortable rigid red chair. The hand was still on her shoulder, but when she began to worry her hands and shuffle her feet in apprehension, the hand slipped down her arm and into her own, fingers gripped tight.

It helped a little.

After what felt like days, Sue leant back in her chair (Brittany's mind flashed to the day Santana has whispered that that chair cost more than the piano in the choir room and that one day, they would be able to afford something so frivolously expensive) and pulled her glasses off, placing one arm thoughtfully between her teeth before her gaze flickered downwards to their joined hands.

"I thought you were with Boobs McGee, Airhead, not Preggers. If you're here to tell me you've downgraded and are about to break my head Cheerios' heart, and subsequently making her worthless to me, I will not hesitate to get that cannon back in full working order for one finial boom." Sue hadn't moved or changed her facial expression from anything other than vague disinterest, but the venom and certainty of her voice was more than enough for Brittany to know she was serious. Quinn squeezed her hand tightly and shuffled so she was sat even straighter in her seat. Even not being on the Cheerios' squad anymore couldn't stop her body automatically responding to Sue's voice.

"No Coach, nothing like that; although, we are here to talk about Santana." Quinn's voice was clear, confident and Brittany was grateful she had taken the lead. She wasn't sure she could talk about any of this without bursting into tears. An automatic Cheerio suspension even before being in Sue's office, let alone _in _her office _and_ in front of her.

Sue narrowed her eyes, as if deciding on whether she should forcibly remove them from her office, or let them talk before forcibly removing them from her office.

"You have," She glanced at her wrist, even though there was no watch there. "Seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds Blondie One and Two." Quinn's mouth relaxed into something less than a defiant scowl and she turned to Brittany.

"Um, Coach, Santana said when, um, when Finn outed her and the ad campaign and everything she well, she um…" Brittany felt any confidence and control over her emotions dissipating like smoke in a strong wind under Sue's intense stare and turned helplessly to Quinn.

"She respects you and somewhat trusts you, especially after what you did from Brittany after Tucker at cheer camp. And the alternatives are Mr Schue or Ms Pillsbury, neither of whom are particularly," Quinn paused, choosing her last word carefully. "Proficient." Sue leant forward intrigued at Quinn's words and nodded slightly to tell them to continue. "Santana went to Dalton last week to get proof that they had messed with the slushie that hurt Blaine, and, um, they, they hurt her –"

Quinn was cut off by Sue's hand held forwards, palm facing them. "Nonsense. She's being fine at practise. A little more short tempered, but I just figured Airhead was withholding. She's fine. Now, Preggers, you have no place in this –"

"They, _he _raped her. At Dalton." The sudden silence after Brittany's voice in the room was thick and cloying and Sue's body tensed, her eyes flashing with something Brittany couldn't quite place.

"We need you to convince her to talk to someone, a councillor, a professional one, not Ms Pillsbury. She's said she will, but we're not so sure that she will without some, persuasion. Please." Quinn leant forward, hoping that asking outright would make Sue more willing to comply. She held Sue's gaze without blinking and opened her mouth about to beg even more when Sue nodded her head brusquely, pushing her glasses back onto her face and looked back down at the papers, a silent dismissal that they understood, hands still linked until the door clicked shut behind them.

* * *

><p>It was at the end of the week when they began to discuss Reginal's, and Santana's anger at herself for still not being able to sing was bubbling closer to the surface than it had all week. She desperately wanted to sing at Reginal's; it was her's and Brittany's last year in New Directions but she knew that her recent disinterest (and Mr Schuster's disinterest in finding out the reason for her behaviour) wouldn't reward her with an important role, if any role, in the competition. To make matters worse, Santana couldn't help but feel that Mr Schuester's favouritism was more evident today than normal.<p>

Mike and Tina were suggesting and experimenting with dance routine ideas (often Brittany would call out odd words causing Mike pause, considering each one before he agreed or disagreed, sometimes pulling Brittany up to demonstrate) but at every one Finn would find something wrong, or Rachel would condescendingly tell them how to improve it or Blaine would simply interrupt them with his own suggestions, often suspiciously close to the ones that Tina and Mike were explaining, while Mr Schuester just looked on, confirming with Finn the mistakes, nodding with Rachel and getting excited with Blaine.

Even the songs that Mercedes, Sam and occasionally Quinn were writing on the white board were being dismissed without votes in favour for Finn, Blaine and Puck's suggestions. Even Artie's suggestions were being ignored, as it seamed that Mr Schuester had taken their argument of the handling of how to deal with Dalton personally whilst Rory just kept throwing little balls of screwed up paper at Sugar who glared at him and continually shuffled closer towards Quinn's seat.

Brittany was stood just in front of Santana, irritated at being ignored; she was instead involved in a pop-n-lock competition with Mike (complete with pulling different faces) which caused Tina to be bent over in laughter and giggles to burst sporadically from Santana. Suddenly Rachel spun quickly and dramatically to face them.

"Will you _stop _messing about Brittany? This is serious, and would it _kill _you to help with suggestions Santana." Brittany had stopped dancing, but hadn't turned to face Rachel, instead tilted her head and crossed her eyes at Santana who couldn't stop the smile from reaching her eyes. A smile which instantly dropped at the sound of Rachel's voice.

"Stop being so childish and help Brittany. I know it may be a little confusing for you, what with everything going on, but I'm sure Santana can explain it." Santana narrowed her eyes, and her heart fell at the hurt looked that flashed momentarily in Brittany's eyes.

"She doesn't need to me to explain, Hobbit. And, if you weren't so busy salivating over Frankenteen, then you would see that she _has _been helping with the dancing. Not that any of you are paying attention to them." Brittany smiled both at Santana defending her, but also at her inclusion of Mike and Tina's efforts too, but Santana's gaze was still trained on Rachel.

Rachel stiffened at Santana's hard tone and Finn stepped up behind her, protectively. "Well, maybe she should make routines that actually fit mine and Finn's song suggestions. Then she would be making a meaningful contribution to this session."

"Or maybe you could all listen to someone else for a change, I'm sick and tired of the solo's automatically going to you, and all the romantic, sickly duets going to you and Finn, there are other people in this club that can sing better than _him_ especially. Plus aren't we a team? This isn't the freaking Berry Hudson Anderson show. And –"

Santana was cut off by Finn's loud voice and she physically flinched at the volume and Brittany spun to face him. "Why do you even care Santana? I mean, you just couldn't be bothered for like a week and now you're taking out your boredom or whatever on Rachel, and it's not fair!" He took two large steps towards her and Brittany instinctively stepped even closer to Santana making sure she could easily get between them. "You are just selfish and mean and I have no idea _what _Brittany sees in you." Santana once again flinched at the proximity and volume of Finn (and, Brittany thought, at what Finn had said), but recovered quicker and opened her mouth to retaliate, but Finn was determined to finish. "Unless you make her do it, which also wouldn't surprise me."

Santana suddenly felt sick. All the fight seeping from her body.

Although she knew what he was suggesting was ridiculous (Brittany whispered and caressed and kissed and laughed her love for Santana every moment she could), her subconscious betrayed her and suddenly all she could think about was Sebastian's smirking face and the weight of his body and she pushed herself upwards with such force that the chair stuttered backwards and she marched out of the room.

The choir room was silent as everyone absorbed what had happened. Brittany moved her leg forward, about to follow Santana when she was stopped by a break in the silence.

"Well, isn't that just so mature and typical of her!" Rachel had turned towards the doorway and her annoyed, slightly hurt, voice cut across the room and caused Brittany to flinch.

"You don't understand." But Brittany's voice was horse, whispered, and Rachel didn't even turn to look at her. "You don't understand." She repeated louder, so that the whole room heard. Rachel turned, straightened a non-existent crease in her skirt and smiled condescendingly at Brittany.

"No Brittany, this is important. Maybe not to you, but I need to win, for college." Quinn's hand pressed against Brittany's shoulder in an attempt to calm her (Brittany briefly wondered when she had moved towards her), and Tina opened her mouth to correct Rachel, but only got as far as the first syllable of Rachel's name before being interrupted. "With Regionals coming up we can't afford to have members dragging us down. Ever since the slushie incident, she's being acting immaturely and selfishly. Honestly, I don't think she deserves to be in the competition group, let alone to sing. Just because she couldn't go all 'Lima Heights' or whatever it is she does, she's being acting like a toddler having a tantrum." Brittany felt tears pooling at the corners of her eyes and her fists clenched. She unconsciously stood and marched towards Rachel, until Finn moved backwards, protectively, in front of Rachel and she felt Mercedes and Quinn reaching out to stop her from going any further.

"Rachel is right Brittany. If Santana can't be bothered to even show up just because she didn't get her way, and then she can't even be bothered to sing, she shouldn't be here. I mean, Kurt's here, and it was his boyfriend that got hurt and Blaine's here and he _is _the one that got hurt in all of this." Finn towered over Brittany, his arms folded across his chest, trying to look simultaneously intimidating and the leader he wanted to be. Tears had started to drip down Brittany's face, tears of anger and her fits clenched and unclenched as she tried to control her breathing.

"Brittany, I really thing crying is a particularly childish response –" Rachel was cut off by Brittany yanking her body away from Quinn and Mercedes, taking another step forward towards Finn and Rachel.

"She isn't being childish or immature or selfish Rachel!" The obvious anger and volume of Brittany's voice shocked everyone into silence and stillness. "And I'm not sad crying, I'm so angry at you and Finn and Mr Schue." She turned her head to look at Mr Schuester, who was watching the scene play out like he had no control, even though he should have spoken and diffused the situation much earlier. "Actually I'm mostly angry at you, you didn't even take two seconds to find out why Santana was acting differently, or wasn't coming. You just assumed like Rachel. So I'm not sad crying Rachel, these are angry tears. Santana has done so much for this club, like getting Kurt back and the Bully Whips and going against Sue and…and…she went to Dalton to find out what happened, what they had done to the slushie that it hurt Blaine so badly. She was going to secretly record Sebastian admitting to it but…" Brittany couldn't finish. She was so close to blurting out what had happened. She always reacted like this when she was angry, especially when she was having to defend her loved ones, she couldn't help but let everything out. Like a tap with the washer broken, no matter how hard she tried, everything would drip out from her in the end.

"Well, I hardly think that justifies her behaviour. Like Finn said, Blaine was the one that got hurt in all of this not –"

"She was raped! She was trying to do you all a favour and she was…she got…she was hurting and _you_" Brittany stabbed her finger at Rachel and not even the look of shock on her face could stop the words from coming. "You, you don't even care!" Brittany ended yelling, her face turned red and her heart aching. She felt Mercedes hand on her back and heard Quinn's soft voice whisper her name, but it just made her angrier. "No! Get off me! I have to find Santana." Brittany turned and pushed the door open as violently as possible headed towards the physics room.

* * *

><p>Once Brittany had left, the room dripped back into shocked silence. Quinn slumped back into the closest chair and Mercedes clasped her hands in worry.<p>

"Dude, you shouldn't have said that crap about Brittany being forced by Santana." Puck was draped across a chair on the back row where he hadn't moved since everything had happened, but his relaxed pose was completely juxtaposed with the angry, focused stare aimed at Finn.

"I didn't know. I mean, how was I _supposed _to know that…that…_that _had happened to Santana." Finn's voice was child-like and he couldn't pull his gaze away from the door that Brittany had disappeared through.

"But you knew Brittany loves Santana. Anyone with eyes knows that." Mercedes' angry voice argued.

"Yeah, I tried to ignore it for ages, but even when she was with me, I knew." Artie's quiet agreement floated across the room. "I think Brittany's only ever loved Santana, at lest in that way."

Finn turned towards Rachel in the hope that she would defend him, but she was staring silently just to the right of Quinn's chair, her bottom lip worrying between her teeth, and he turned back to the rest of the room, his mouth opened in shock. "Well, I mean, none of _you _guys knew either. You were all just thinking what I had the guts, as the _leader _to say." His voice had regained some of it's strength, but he still sounded unsure.

"No. Tina, Mercedes, Kurt, Quinn and I knew something was going on. Even Rachel noticed that Brittany has been really upset this week." Mike stepped towards Finn, giving him his full attention.

"Even Puck noticed that Brittany was upset." Kurt's quiet voice joined the rest, and Finn turned towards him, looking hurt. "Look, Finn, I'm not saying that you were the only one to cause this," Kurt glanced pointedly at Mr Schuester. "Nor am I saying that Santana is the easiest to get on with or anything. But I mean, you _outed _her, and I know you've apologised, but you really can't understand how that must have felt for her; how scary and overwhelming and out of control it must have been. She was forced to tell her parents before she was ready, and then the advert and everything." Finn made a sound in his throat, but Kurt held up his hand to indicate he wasn't finished. "I know you didn't know about the advert, but yelling it in the middle of the hallway? Look, I know everyone gets a little…over the top and sensitive near to competition time, but I think what you said overstepped the line. And I feel horrible about what happened to her."

Finn felt angry and betrayed by Kurt's words, he hadn't expected Kurt to react like this, not after the bulling that he had been subjected to from Santana. "She was attacking Rachel! What, I'm supposed to let her get away with that, and now you all feel sorry for Santana just 'cos Brittany said that she was hurt? How do we even know it's true?"

Suddenly Mr Schuester walked into the middle of the room. "Guys, this won't help anything, Brittany seams more than capable of helping Santana, and if you would like, afterwards, I can call Santana's home to make sure. But for now let's get back to sorting out our set-list and preparing for Regionals. Rachel, you had a suggestion?" Many of the Glee members were shocked at his dismissal of what had happened, and even Rachel took a few seconds to register that she was being addressed. She cleared her throat, but before she could talk, Quinn abruptly pushed her chair back.

"Santana was right, you only listen to a select few members' ideas, the rest of us get relegated to gentle swaying." She was angry, not really about who got what solos – she had stopped looking for praise or distinction within Glee a long time ago – but she couldn't believe how easily Mr Schuester was brushing what had happened aside. Even Finn, although managing to sound completely insensitive as normal, wasn't blatantly ignoring it.

"Quinn, I take everyone's inputs into account when making decisions, especially for competitions."

Quinn rolled eyes slightly, her eyebrow quirked in disbelief. "Okay. Whatever. I need to find Santana." She picked up her bag walked towards the door.

"Quinn! Wait!" Mercedes jogged towards Quinn and leant towards her ear, whispered quickly and quietly then pulled back. Quinn's eyes flickered between Mercedes' own and the remaining members still sat on the chairs before she slowly nodded and walked down the corridor.

* * *

><p>Ever since last year, when the astronomy display (including large colourful spinning mobiles and large dark blue swirling posters of twinkling white star charts) Brittany had spent hours in there learning about the stars and their origin and the mythology of their various names. So, by extension, Santana had spent her free time watching Brittany revel in the diagrams, soaking up the information like a sponge, making her face light up when she found something new and exciting. And when everything had blown up with Finn and the advert, it had become a kind of sanctuary for them.<p>

Brittany reached the door and peered in through the triangular window, palms pressed against the cool wood. She could see Santana spread along a desk, her head directly underneath a mobile showing the transverse and cross section of a red dwarf and a super nova. She always said it was her favourite, how powerful they are, but at the same time so destructive, so self destructive, and so beautiful.

"Hey Sanny." Brittany reached the desk and ran her fingers down Santana's arm until their fingers met and tangled together. Santana still hadn't shifted her eyes from the mobile but she tugged at Brittany's arm, pulling her onto the desk and partly onto Santana's body. Brittany brushed her nose along Santana's cheek in comfort, happy to lie there until she was ready to talk.

"I'm sorry I yelled and let them wind me up Britt, I know you hate it." Santana's words slipped over Brittany's hairline and she couldn't stop pulling closer towards her.

"You need to talk to someone Sanny." Brittany's words were quiet and her fingers tripped and trickled all along Santana's exposed skin, paying particular attention to Santana's cheek as she leant into Brittany's fingers.

"I know B, I know. Coach came and talked to me. She gave me the name of someone in Dayton. I, I'm going to make an appointment for next week." Brittany squeezed Santana's waist gently, ecstatic, but not wanting to break the gentle calm they shared. She gently kissed Santana's chin, her lips lingering, and smiled.

"Thank you. Good." Another squeeze. Another gentle, languid kiss. Santana shifted, and Brittany thought she had done something wrong and an apology was pressed against her teeth, before she felt soft, wet lips pressed against her own and Santana's nosed squished against her own.

Santana pulled back slightly, their lips still connected by not kissing, her eyes closed and fingertips pressed along Brittany's jaw. "Will you come with me? Please. I can't do this without you B." Santana's voice was vulnerable and small and Brittany's hearted clenched. And she whispered

"Anything for you Sanny. Anything." Before she kissed her again. Santana laid back down, tugging at Brittany to follow her, and they looked upwards at the mobile for several minutes in warm silence.

"I know Coach didn't notice anything and that you and Q talked to her by the way. When she gave me the number she said that if I didn't go and she had to witness you trying not to cry in her office again, she would demote me." Brittany wasn't sorry for talking to their Coach, and didn't see the point in denying something that was so obvious, so she just nodded against Santana's chest. "I feel like I should be mad, but, I just feel kinda…achy that I made you cry. Again." Santana let out a shuddering sigh, a sigh that she was trying to hold back tears, and Brittany pulled herself upwards, her whole body pressed against Santana's and kissed her, hard, firm.

"No, don't feel like that. _You _didn't make me cry, _me _feeling completely helpless made me cry. I'm not sorry that I went to Coach, but I'm glad that you're not mad either." She paused and Santana's eyes continued to flicker between Brittany's steady ones. Then gently she nodded in acceptance, her hand tugging Brittany's face back downwards to press their lips gently together before Brittany settled her head along Santana's neck.

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks so much for reading! I hope I managed to keep the Glee club as in character as possible. As ever, reviews would be much appreciated, even if it's just to tell me how many mistakes I made! I'm sure there are some!

Hope you enjoyed this, review please? Haha! Thanks! :D


	5. Author's Note

Hi everyone.

This isn't an update I'm afraid, this is just to let you know that it may take a little longer than normal to update. Something horrible happened to me (well, my family) about three hours ago, and so right now, writing this is too hard. I'm in no way abandoning this fic, I just can't write this right now. I debated putting this on, I'm not a big one for spilling my guts or anything like that, but it may take a couple of weeks before I can write about a less than happy subject again, and I'm only half way through the next chapter.

Thanks in advance for your understanding and patience.

Shark_geek


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Hi everyone. Thanks for your patience over the past couple of weeks. I appreciate it.

Thank you everyone for the reviews and the favourites/alerts. They mean A LOT trust me :D

I hope you are all still enjoying this and that both the mixture of flashbacks and the length is still okay? I didn't get much feedback on my last chapter, so I hope this is still up to standards!

So, here we go. The next chapter.

* * *

><p>They were still laid on the table when they both heard a light knock and Quinn's head pushed through the door.<p>

"Hey finally guys. I should have known you were in here. I've been to like, all of the locker rooms and the gym and underneath the bleachers and at the top of the bleachers and-"

"Oh my God Fabray, breath; you'll give yourself an aneurysm." Santana's lilting voice was followed by Brittany's arm stuck out and her fingers wiggling. Quinn smiled at the familiar gesture and pulled out the chair from underneath their table, flopped down onto it and propped her legs against the table's edge.

"Sorry. Angry." Quinn jumped slightly at the feel of a warm hand on her shin, and Santana's hand squeezed gently in silent thanks. Brittany smiled softly at the sight, but she suddenly flashed back to the choir room and everything she had said; flushing hot and red at the memory.

"Um, San?" Brittany's voice was small, and she pulled away from Santana, curling in on herself a little. Santana frowned at Brittany's movement and hummed to indicate she was listening. "I kinda, well, um, you know how when I get angry or confused or upset, I tend to just, say everything connected to what I'm angry or confused or upset about?" Santana frowned and sat up so that she could look into Brittany's face, when she saw the frightened, worried expression her face was pulled into, her stomach dropped and her heart clenched in worry.

"Yeah. Did something happen after I left?" Santana's eyes shifted between Quinn and Brittany, waiting for one of them to explain. Quinn wasn't giving any hints, she just looked (it wasn't even a stare) defiantly back at Santana, and Brittany opened and closed her mouth several times before she cleared her throat and swallowed loudly.

"Um, I told them." Santana couldn't process what Brittany was trying to say, it was like she was hearing Brittany through a wall of clear syrup, she could see the movement of Brittany's lips (those beautiful pale pink lips that were so soft and offered her so many kisses and words of comfort) but her ears couldn't understand the muffled words. "I'm sorry S, but they were blaming you and being so mean, and saying that you had no reason to be acting like this, especially as Blaine was the only one that got hurt and, and, I'm so sorry." Brittany's words were spilled from her mouth like oil from a breached hull, coating Santana in a slick shiny layer that couldn't wash off and made her feel dirty and ashamed all over again.

Santana couldn't speak. Her emotions were so confused, tumbling and tripping over one another, contradicting one another, pushing one another out of the way. She felt betrayed and hurt and angry and sick and ashamed and broken and exposed.

But this was Brittany.

This was _her _Brittany.

She would never make her feel any of these things on purpose; but knowing that didn't stop her from feeling them. She sat up abruptly, pulled her legs from underneath Brittany's longer, paler ones and yanked her arm aggressively away from both the blondes.

"Please don't be angry Santana, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out. I promise. I-" Santana cut off Brittany's rambling with a hurt look (that she was desperate to make cold) and lifted her hand upwards, palm faced towards Brittany.

"Stop. I'm going home. I, fuck Britt!" Brittany recoiled from Santana and sat up, trying to stop any tears from leaking down her face, but Santana took a step back and pulled her arms around herself. "I need, I need to be alone. I don't want to be mad at you Britt. I just. Fuck! They _all _know? Fuck! How could you – fuck!" Santana punched the closest table in frustration and both Quinn and Brittany flinched.

"Come on Santana, she didn't –"

"Shut up Quinn. I'm serious, I'm going home, and I _need _to be alone. I'll call you when I feel less like yelling at you until I can't speak anymore." Santana let out another frustrated sigh and walked out of the room without looking back at either of them.

Quinn watched helplessly and one of her best friends stormed out of the room and the other collapsed into a ball on the table, as empty, raw sobs bounced around the room.

* * *

><p>"Santana? That you?" Santana's eyes were scratchy and dry from the sudden unstoppable burst of tears that had caused her to pull over twice on the way home and the sound of her mother's voice shocked her. She walked into the kitchen where her mother was stood at the counter with half a dozen Tupperware boxes laid out in front of her and a pot of stew warming on the stove top.<p>

"Hey mami. What are you doing back? I thought you and dad were away for at lest another week?" Eloise noticed Santana's swollen eyes and the scratchiness of her voice, but knew her daughter better than to push the matter straight away.

"I got a panicked call from one of my patients, so I'm back today and tomorrow morning, then I'm going back to join your father. How was school?" Santana shrugged and fiddled with the closest lid popping and un-popping it from the container. Eloise watched her for several minutes, until it was obvious she wasn't going to get anything more than that. "Has something happened? You look upset?" Santana shrugged again, but her face creased and crumpled with the effort of once again trying not to cry. Eloise hadn't ever seen Santana this broken (although she had heard many nights of tears this time last year) and she rushed around the counted to pull Santana close towards her.

"I had an argument with Brittany." The words were mumbled into Eloise's shirt, but they still reached her ears. Despite her broken, crying daughter, clinging like a limpet to her front, Eloise couldn't help the small smile. She reached a hand to Santana's face and brushed at some of the tears.

"Well, I hope she knows how important she is then. All these tears just for her. Do you want to talk about it?" Eloise knew when to push and when to let Santana drift, and she was amazed that Santana hadn't pulled away sooner. She felt Santana shake her head, then take a large breath through her nose and release it through her teeth.

"No. I'm going to go and have a bath then go to bed." She pulled away and stood straight, violently teasing at the skin underneath her eyes to remove the evidence of her tears and yanked her shirt to smooth the creases. She smiled grimly and walked out of the kitchen. Eloise hated that her daughter felt the need to push down all these strong, obviously painful emotions, to hide what she perceived as weakness behind a cold barrier and she couldn't (didn't want to) stop the words from bursting into the kitchen as Santana reached the doorway.

"I love you. So does your father." Santana nodded and looked over her shoulder, the smile slightly less forced, before she walked up the stairs.

* * *

><p>Santana had spent Saturday staying in bed, alternating from doing her homework and bringing up Brittany's number on her phone, only to exit her contacts list and lock the screen. Her mum came in to bring her food, and would sit awkwardly on the edge of the bed not speaking in the hope of Santana telling her what happened. She instead would stare at the garishly bright canvas Brittany's little sister had made Santana, after the evening when she and Brittany sat Ashley down to have the most awkward conversation about their relationship ever. Santana appreciated her mother's gesture, but appreciated it more when she would smile, pat her leg or kiss her forehead and close the door.<p>

Sunday morning, Eloise pushed into Santana's room with breakfast, dressed for work. "Here is breakfast Santana, I'm headed back to the conference today, will you be okay if I leave?"

"Yes mum! For the last time, I. Will. Be. Fine. I'm not breakable; I'm just enjoying a weekend by myself." Santana couldn't help the frustration sparkling through her words, but her eyes were soft and thankful. Eloise nodded and kissed her forehead, lips lingering a little and her fingers brushed once through Santana's hair.

"Eat up. I'll let you know when I'm leaving okay?" It was less than half an hour later when Santana heard an assertive knock, and Santana sighed, awaiting her mother's head to push around the door and to say she was leaving. But the person on the other side hadn't pushed the door open. And her mother rarely knocked. Santana frowned slightly.

"Um, come in?"

The door opened a little and their head pushed through the gap. Santana hadn't opened her curtains and in the relative dimness of the room, all she saw was length of dark brown hair. Their body followed, blinding white shirt with doily-lace edging and collars, a short dark skirt and mustard yellow knee high socks that made Santana's nose physically crinkle.

"Berry?" Santana was shocked into stillness for a few seconds, then self consciously pulled her duvet closer around her chest. "What do you want?" Santana's eyes narrowed as she watched Rachel push the door closed and curiously looked around the room. Santana heard her mum's voice filter up the stairs saying goodbye, and she sent a quick text to her in acknowledgement. When she looked up from the screen, Rachel still hadn't moved. "Berry!" Rachel jumped at the volume and her eyes snapped back to Santana's face. "What do you want?"

She cleared her throat and pushed her palms down her skirt nervously before walking towards Santana's desk chair and sitting on the edge delicately, hands clasped in her lap. "I um, I wanted to, um, well, I wanted to apologise. I realise that I slightly, well, over-reacted and what Finn said was unacceptable and well, you must feel terrible after what happened with Sebastian, I know if it happened to me how torn up I would be about it and how –"

"Rachel. Breath."

"Right. Well, I thought I would come as a representative of New Directions to say that, um, well, that we were out of line, especially Finn, but you can see why he was upset, I mean, you didn't tell any of us, we could have helped you get through this traumatic time –"

"Okay, stop Berry. Enough. You've managed to make your apology to me about yourself, you can go now." The sharpness in Santana's voice made Rachel's eyes widen, and her hands clenched tighter.

"Right. I just. I'm sorry Santana."

"I don't need your pity or your apology Berry. If it weren't for the fact that you and certain others seam incapable of making Brittany feel like shit, you wouldn't know anything. You've done your 'duty'; so you can go now." Rachel nodded slowly and stood up.

"Okay. Well, I will see you on Monday Santana. Have a good rest of your day." Rachel had her hand on the door handle when suddenly a thought hit Santana.

"Rachel?" Rachel spun around an expectant look on her face and her hands tucked neatly into her sides. "You better make your apology to Brittany better." Rachel opened her mouth as if to argue, but quickly snapped her mouth shut and nodded once before walking out of the door and closing it behind her.

* * *

><p>Santana walked through the corridors on Monday, sure that everyone would know what Sebastian had done to her (every time she started to blame herself she would hear Brittany's voice and picture the blond, hands on hips, face crumpled in attempted anger) and that the cruel words and judgement would soon follow.<p>

But they didn't.

Just the normal stares that had persevered after being outed by Finn and the subsequent campaign, mostly from Josh's friends. She turned the finial corner to her locker, and saw Brittany slumped against her locker, her finger tripping up and down the grooves and indents and scratches. She couldn't help the small smile and the zing of anger that she had once again hurt her. "Hey Britt." Santana reached out and placed her palm at the top of Brittany's spine, then stroked downwards towards her hip and she came face to face with Brittany.

Brittany's smile was tentative, and Santana felt another spark of anger at herself. "Hey Santana."

"Thanks for giving me some space this weekend Britt, I really appreciate it. I um, I'm sorry I yelled at you, I was just really frightened, and I was angry, but not really at you, just that it had happened and it meant a lot that you defended me, and -" Suddenly, warm hands were pressed against Santana's cheeks and soft, slightly lip-gloss sticky lips were against her own.

"You were rambling Sanny. It's adorable, but I do need to be on time to my lesson, and I was starting to think you wouldn't stop until you got hungry." Brittany's smile was wide and she pinched Santana's cheek between her fingers affectionately.

"So I'm forgiven?" Santana's forehead was creased, her nose scrunched and her bottom lips between her teeth in anxiety.

"There was nothing to be forgiven for. Well, you had to forgive me for telling everyone, but you said you have, so we're okay. I mean, we are right?" Brittany's head tilted, her lips slightly parted in question, and Santana couldn't help but kissing them once again before she nodded and ran her finger down Brittany's nose. "Good. Good. Okay. And thank you for making Rachel to apologise to me. But I have to go to Physics. I can't be late." Santana nodded, but Brittany's fingertips were still pressing at the skin of Santana's cheek and her body hadn't moved.

"Thought you couldn't be late?" Santana's eyebrow quirked, but her hands at Brittany's waist tightened as the bell rang and the corridor suddenly burst with activity.

Brittany shrugged and moved one hand into Santana's ponytail. "Pfft, I'm awesome at Physics, I can wait five minutes." Santana couldn't stop the bubble of a giggle and leant her head against Brittany's shoulder.

"You sure are Britt-Britt. You sure are."

* * *

><p>They didn't go to Glee that afternoon. Santana wasn't ready to be in a room surrounded by people who knew that she hadn't been strong enough to stop the (she took a deep breath, she could think this word, just four little letters) <em>rape.<em> It would be claustrophobic and after Rachel's rather surprising (if still defiantly self-centred) apology she was sure everyone else would try and say something to her.

It would be too much, too soon.

She text Brittany after her last lesson to let her know that she wasn't going, but that it wasn't because she was angry or upset. Brittany didn't reply as quickly as normal, and Santana was almost by the main front doors before her phone vibrated and Brittany's message appeared. It was a blank text and Santana's forehead creased in confusion, until she saw the little paper clip attachment sign and opened the picture. Brittany was laid along the bonnet of Santana's car, trying to look carefree and like all those girls modelling swim wear in glossy magazines. But the effect was slightly spoiled (but made definitely more Brittany) by the warm Cheerios jacket that hugged her torso and the brightly coloured knee high socks (one striped and one spotty) just visible below the red Cheerios issue jogging bottoms (that Santana was sure were her's as they fell at least two inches above Brittany's shoes). She wasn't looking at the camera, instead staring off into the distance (that Santana knew faced the school wall, but Brittany made it seem like it was the most interesting sight she had ever seen) but her finger was crocked towards the camera and Santana laughed softly at the image.

"You ready to go home Sanny-San-Bear?" Brittany giggled musically at Santana's cocked eyebrow. "Too much?"

"Yeah Britty, too much. You don't need to come home with me, I just don't feel like being surrounded by them all, you know? But I want you to go, you and Mike and Tina were starting to get some of the routines sorted right?" Santana walked over to Brittany and leant her hip where the bonnet met the windscreen.

"No one listened to me much anyway, and Mike said that he and Tina would go through everything with me if I wanted anyway. And I wanted to spend the afternoon with my super hot girlfriend." Brittany smirked mischievously while Santana dipped her head to avoid Brittany's eye before pushing aside a non-existent fringe and looking back up.

"Well then, you should probably stop lounging on my car and go get her." Brittany smiled and tilted her head, swinging her body around to fully face Santana, then tugged on her shoulders and wrapped her legs around her waist.

"Got you." She whispered before she rubbed their noses together. "Now, how 'bout we go back to yours and watch a movie?" Santana smiled and pulled Brittany closer before she nodded and pressed their lips together, soft and quick.

* * *

><p>They were half way through 'Finding Nemo' and Santana was having problems breathing from laughing at Brittany's impression of speaking whale, when Quinn's head appeared in the gap of the open door.<p>

"Hey guys. We weren't really feeling the 'we are a big singing family' vibe today. I hope that's okay?" Brittany nodded and smiled wide, extending her arm to welcome Quinn onto the bed.

"Wait. We?" Santana shuffled closer to Brittany and squeezed her fingers tightly. "Who's we?" Santana's voice was sharp and Quinn's smile slipped a little.

"Um, Mercedes, Tina and I. They asked about coming to see you last week, and I thought it would be okay. Sam and Mike said to say hello too, but they didn't want you to feel, um, overwhelmed or anything." Santana held Quinn's gaze for several seconds before she shrugged, dropping her head onto Brittany's shoulder and training her gaze back to the TV. Quinn still looked unsure, moving her gaze to Brittany, silently asking her to translate. She didn't move until Brittany nodded slightly, when she moved away from the doorway and walked back down to the hallway where Mercedes and Tina were waiting.

"Be nice San, please. They aren't here to be mean. And they've stood up for you before." Santana sighed at Brittany's plea, but sat up straighter and relaxed her grip on Brittany's hand.

"Yeah, 'k Britt." She leant across and cupped her face before kissing her.

"Aw Satan and her Princess being all cute." Brittany's checks dusted with rose red and Santana felt her whole body tingle with warmth. Mercedes walked into the room closely followed by Tina who both went and sat on the window seat. "Seriously girl, you and Brittany okay?"

"Yeah, we wanted to come by and just say that we hope you guys are okay and that what Finn said was wrong." Tina's quiet gentle voice was oddly soothing to Santana, especially added to the gentle scratch of Brittany's fingers at the base of her neck.

"Yeah, thanks. It's a little…odd knowing that everyone knows and everything, but um, Britt's being, um, good." Santana felt her cheeks darken as she muttered 'lame' under her breath.

Brittany's fingers scratched a little harder and her smile widened at Santana's words. "Thanks for sticking up for Sanny and me as well guys, Quinn told me what you said after I left. Where is Quinn by the way?"

"Oh, she's talking to your mum about an Unholy Trinity plus two night?" Mercedes answered curiously. Santana met Brittany's eye and they both couldn't help laughing out loud.

* * *

><p><em>They were thirteen at the first Unholy Trinity night, although then, it was just a sleepover. Brittany and Santana were lounged along the couch under a single worn blanket adorned with different coloured ducks and its fair share of stains, whilst Quinn was curled up in the adjacent chair with her sleeping bag twisted around her waist. It would rustle every time she so much as a muscle moved and Santana huffed in frustration each time, until Brittany took her hand under the cover and pressed at the spaces between Santana's knuckles with her other hand, and suddenly Santana couldn't hear the movie, let alone Quinn's rustling, over the blood that was rushing in her ears or find enough air to breath let alone to waste over her frustration at Quinn.<em>

_Brittany jumped at the sound of the bowl thumping onto the coffee table and the whoosh of the sleeping bag as it puddled onto the floor around Quinn's ankles. "I'm going to make some more popcorn, do you guys want anything?" Brittany looked at Santana, who was still concentrating on not suffocating, and turned back to Quinn._

"_No, we're fine thanks Q." Quinn looked between them hesitantly, then shrugged feeling like she was being left out of something –_

* * *

><p>"Of course, I <em>was <em>being left out of something. Those two have been sickly sweat towards each other forever, they just got worse and worse at hiding it." Quinn interrupted as she walked into the door and slumped on the end of the bed.

"Hush Fabray and let Britt finish." Santana scolded before she kissed the bottom of Brittany's jaw. "Ignore the interrupting cow and continue B."

* * *

><p><em>When Brittany was sure that Quinn was in the kitchen, she pulled her hand from under the blanket and twisted a strand of Santana's dark hair between her fingers. She had loved the completely different texture of Santana's hair compared to her own, and ever since she had first run her fingers through it, she always found every opportunity to touch it.<em>

"_Are you okay? You seem a little…tense tonight. Should I have not invited Quinn? It's just she's new, and I thought it would be nice." Brittany whispered, her lips periodically brushing against the skin of Santana's cheek and her warm breath made Santana's heart beat faster. Brittany threaded more fingers through her hair._

"_Yeah Britt-Britt I'm fine. You were right to invite her I suppose, I just, wasn't expecting her to be here, that's all. But you were right." Santana turned her face towards Brittany's and was sure that she saw Brittany's pupils dilate, the blue become darker, but before she could look closer she felt warm moist lips pressed against her own and Brittany's grip tighten in her hair. It was brief, hardly lasting a few seconds but it was enough to make Santana's mouth hang open and her eyes remain closed after Brittany pulled back. It wasn't until she heard Brittany giggle and trace her fingers along Santana's bottom lip that her eyes snapped open and she closed her mouth, surprising Brittany, accidently trapping her finger between her lips inadvertently flicking her tongue along the fingertip._

_Brittany's eye widened and her mouth formed a tiny o shape at the action and a small 'wow' slipped through her lips before she could stop it. It wasn't until they heard the distinct beep of the microwave and the rustle of a popcorn bag that they jumped apart, Brittany's cheeks burning red, and stuffed their still clasped hands back underneath the blanket._

_Quinn walked back into the front room bouncing the still hot bag between her hands before dropping it into the bowl. The room was awkwardly silent, with Santana avoiding either blonde's eye and Brittany smiling too big at Quinn._

"_We should do this more often and give it a name!" Brittany said into the quiet room. "You know, like a weekly thing, and a name so that we can talk about it without anyone else knowing about it."_

"_Yeah," Quinn agreed, nodding her head in thought. "Especially seeing as we are all now Cheerios too." She looked towards Santana who still was avoiding looking at them and taking deep breaths. Quinn was fascinated by Santana's behaviour, watching as she obviously tried to control her breathing, occasionally pressing the back of her hand to her cheek, as it to check the temperature before she would run her hands nervously through her hair. She was so absorbed at watching Santana that it took her several seconds before she realised that Brittany was suggesting different names._

"_Oh! I know! How about…The Unholy Trinity Night." Brittany beamed in pride and looked towards Santana for her approval (obviously much more important to her than Quinn's). When Santana still didn't react, Brittany poked her cheek gently, until Santana smiled and looked at Brittany._

"_Yeah B. That's perfect."_

* * *

><p>The room fell into laughter as Santana tried to wriggle deeper into the mattress and pulled Brittany's arm around her.<p>

"So, wait, what you're saying is that Santana has been whipped since she was thirteen!" Mercedes voice was broken by giggles.

"Shut up, I am not whipped." This prompted the laughter to increase in volume and Quinn even snorted, instantly clapping her hand over her mouth. "What? I'm not!"

Brittany tugged on Santana's hand asking her to face her. "Hey, Sanny, can I pick the movie tonight? I know it was supposed to be your turn, but please?" Brittany began to pout slightly but Santana had already moved her hand to Brittany's cheek and rubbed her thumb along her cheekbone.

"Yeah sure B, whatever you want to watch is fine." Brittany smiled brightly and Mercedes made a whipping sound and motion with her hand. "Oh shut up. You're all just jealous that you don't have someone as hot as B to snuggle up to at night. Go pick your movie B I'm going to get some snacks." Santana huffed dramatically before she flipped Quinn off and stuck her tongue out at Tina and Mercedes.

She wasn't even fully through the doorway when she heard loud giggling and Brittany's voice. "Aw don't laugh, it's not her fault I'm so awesome that she can't say no."

* * *

><p>Santana paced in front of her locker occasionally kicking her feet against the ones below. She hated feeling like this. So out of control of her own emotions. She couldn't miss any more Glee sessions, otherwise there would be more speculation about her and more questions; but she didn't want to go to Glee and have everyone stare at her with pity and tell her how sorry they were. She hated feeling like this. She huffed and kicked at the lower locker again, then suddenly hands were over her eyes and her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching and her body began to panic until Brittany's familiar shampoo scent swam around her head and she let her body relax back into Brittany's.<p>

Brittany felt her stiffen and quickly moved her hands to slide across Santana's hips. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you Dollface. You okay? You seemed a bit tense. We don't have to go to Glee if you don't want to?" Brittany leant her chin on Santana's shoulder and nuzzled her nose into Santana's cheek.

"No. I don't want them making up reasons I'm not there or assuming they know what I'm going through. Also I don't want Berry to get all the solos."

Brittany smiled before linking their arms together. "Just remember that not all of them are being falsely concerned. I even think Rachel's apology to me was mostly sincere."

Santana smiled and bumped their hips together gently. "Yeah that's 'cos I threatened her if she apologised to you as poorly as she apologised to me." The choir room was approaching too quickly for Santana, and she couldn't help but try to arrange her face into a nonchalant, bitch smirk. She felt she has just perfected it when Brittany pushed them through the doorway and kissed her gently on the cheek making her mouth quirk into a smile and heat spread throughout her body, completely ruining it.

But she didn't care too much.

Quinn smiled warmly and gestured to the two empty chairs that she and Mercedes surrounded with Mike and Tina behind them. Santana didn't want to be surrounded by other people, she didn't want to feel like she was the centre of attention or claustrophobic and unable to get away quickly. She was already mentally building answers, which actually didn't answer anything, to the prying questions she was sure they would bombard her with.

But they didn't.

"Hey Satan, and her Princess." Mercedes smiled cheekily and Santana couldn't stop the answering smirk. "Kurt and I were discussing it, and we think black with gold highlights for the costumes. Smoky lighting with specific spotlights. What do think? Will that look good with the routines you guys and Brittany have thought up?"

Tina and Mike both looked towards Brittany before nodding. "Yeah, the spotlights especially." Mike briefly squeezed Santana's shoulder but said nothing and Tina smiled at her.

"So long as the gold is like really…minimal. Otherwise it'll just look, what's that word your mum likes Tina? When she talks about jewellery?"

Tina laughed lightly "Garish."

"Yeah, garish. But the black should help it look classy, but still maybe just like a sash for the girls and ties –"

"How 'bout bowties Britt?" Tina interrupted softly.

"Yeah! Bowties. Bowties are cool." Brittany affected a gentle north London accent, tugging at an imaginary bowtie and lifted her chin confidently. Santana couldn't stop the giggle and pulled one of Brittany's hands into her lap, twisting their fingers together.

"You are such a dork Britt."

"But I'm _your _dork San."

"Sickening aren't they?" Quinn's faux chastising tone made them all fall into giggles, which suddenly died when Finn and Rachel walked into the choir room hand in hand. As soon as Rachel caught Quinn's eye, she let go of Finn's hand and marched to a chair next to Kurt. Santana could feel her heart pounding and hear the blood rushing in her ears, but Brittany's cool, thin fingers kept her from running from the room or starting to yell at Finn.

The room settled into an awkward hush and Brittany glanced nervously between Santana, Quinn and Finn. She didn't know what to say in order to stop Santana over reacting and was glad when Quinn gained their attention.

"So, the colours sound good then Britt? What do you think Santana? You think your girl will look pretty in a black dress with a gold sash?"

"Can your Princess pull off all that black?" Mercedes' giggling voice joined in.

Santana narrowed her eyes at Quinn and Brittany felt her cheeks redden before pushing gently at Mercedes knee. "Britt would look beautiful in a sack dress it's you I'm worried about Tubbers."

"Beautiful huh?" Mike poked at Brittany's red cheek before laughing loudly at Santana's embarrassed glance around the room.

"Oh! And gold sash alice band things! They would look really pretty in your dark hair San. And Mercedes and Tina, it would look a little washed out in blonde hair, but that's okay." Santana smiled softly at Brittany and jumped at the unexpected clap of Mr Schuester's hands at the front of the room.

"Okay guys, can I have your attention. Rachel tells me that she wants to say something before we get back to preparing for regionals."

Rachel cleared her throat and walked brusquely to stand beside the piano, nervously pulling at the bottom of her shirt. "Um, so I wanted to start off by say to Santana that-"

"I don't want to hear it Berry. Especially as it will probably end up being about you anyway."

"Do you have to be so mean Santana? She was trying to apologise." At Finn's voice Santana couldn't help but roll her eyes, and Brittany glared at him with an intensity that Santana would have been proud of if she had seen it.

"It's okay Finn. I actually already apologised. I understand Santana." Rachel looked directly at Santana who pulled Brittany's hand into her lap while returning the stare (although there may have been a small mouthed thanks while she lifted their entwined hands) before she nodded and carried on. "In that case, I suggest we can back onto focusing for the competition. I, of course, have several splendid ideas."

* * *

><p>The rest of the week passed surprisingly quickly, with most of their free time taken up by extra Glee rehearsals, unexpected visits from the majority of the Glee club and Santana was feeling increasingly relaxed even when completely surrounded in the corridors.<p>

Brittany was happy at seeing _her _Santana return completely, but couldn't stop the small nagging at the back her mind that she knew she would have to be attended to soon. She was even prouder of her on Wednesday when Santana walked brusquely towards her, gripping a cleanly folded piece of paper in her hand, into the cafeteria.

Santana sat down on the bench, with slightly more force than she meant to before kissing Brittany quickly on the cheek. "Are-you-free-this-weekend-so-we-can-go-to-Dayton?" Santana's voice was higher than normal and all her words ran together in one quite breath.

Brittany squinted her eyes and shook her head when she couldn't make out what Santana had said. "Slow down Dollface and say that again."

Santana puffed her cheeks and expelled a large breath of air noisily. "I asked, are you free this weekend so we can go to Dayton?" She bit one side of her bottom lip and her face scrunched in nerves and embarrassment.

"Yeah, course. I told you I would go with you if and when you wanted me to." Brittany smiled coyly and bumped their knees together underneath the table.

"Yeah, I know, but then we had that argument and I ignored you for the weekend and stuff."

"Santana, we are going to have arguments. Couples, no matter how happy they are, will have arguments and need time away from each other. But I will always love you and always be there for you and protect you, even if I simultaneous want to slap you for being so silly or scream at you for being so stubborn. Okay?"

Santana smiled widely kissing Brittany's shoulder. "How did I end up with such an amazing girlfriend?"

"You have an amazing arse." Brittany managed to keep a straight face for several seconds before they both collapsed into laughter. "I love you Dollface."

"I love you two Britty."

* * *

><p>Santana didn't mention her appointment with the psychologist again until Brittany was driving them both to Santana's house on Friday.<p>

"Britt?" Santana reached out and pressed her fingers into Brittany's shoulder and Brittany hummed to indicate she was listening. "Is it okay if you, if um, you don't come into the session with me? I mean I still want you to go with me and everything, and, later I might want you in there with me, or, I dunno, she may want you in there, but is it okay if I do the first one, at least, by myself? Please?"

"Anything Dollface. I don't take offence. So long as you're sure. I can even wait in the car for you? I don't mind?"

"No! No, I need you to actually be able to walk through the doors, I need to know that I can reach out and hold your hand. I just don't think I can…I don't _want_ you to hear what happened in detail."

"I understand. I was thinking we should get a movie tonight? Maybe invite Quinn? Mercedes and Tina too?"

"Anything you want Britty." Brittany smiled brightly and did a modest celebration dance whilst still being able to drive in a straight line. "And, thanks Britt."

* * *

><p>The sunlight was filtering through the not quite closed curtains when they shifted with the breeze painting undulating white spots across Brittany's face. Her eyes opened, the lids heavy and sticky with sleep and her face scrunched against the light. Santana was curled along her back and when Brittany reached for the glass of water on the nightstand (Santana always left one on her side because Brittany always woke up with a scratchy and itchy throat) she grumbled and pulled Brittany back against her.<p>

"Britty I don't want to get up yet." Santana's voice was deeper and scratchier than normal, making Brittany's heart rate increase, and when she turned in Santana's arms she couldn't help the smile at Santana's face scrunched in annoyance.

"I'm not getting up San, I just needed some water." Santana hummed in contentedness, which only increased in volume when Brittany scratched her fingers at the base of Santana's skull. They laid like that, in comforting silence, Brittany's fingers working at the skin at Santana's skull and eventually Santana's eyes slid into view, slightly swollen from sleep. "San, can we, talk about something?" Brittany's voice was tentative, and she couldn't help gripping slightly tighter to the sheet beneath her free hand and press at Santana's skin a little harder.

"Sure Britt, anything." Santana could sense Brittany's unease and shuffled herself closer in an attempt to comfort her. "You can talk to me about anything."

Brittany nodded, but she still couldn't form the words she wanted. Instead, she wriggled from Santana's arms and walked across to her desk. She pulled out the middle draw, placing it on the floor and began to pull the contents out, placing them on the floor around her. Santana sat up, leaning her weight on her elbow and pulled the sheet closer around her, feeling exposed without Brittany's body. When Brittany was completely surrounded by pens, brightly coloured notebooks, buttons, pins and several sweet wrappers, she slumped heavily onto her rear and took a deep breath, before she reached into the draw and pulled out something that was small enough to be clasped and covered by her fist. She stared at the empty draw for several seconds, before turning back to Santana and smiling weakly. She brushed her hair out of her face self-consciously before she stood up and padded towards the bed. She tugged the sheet from underneath Santana sliding back in beside her and tucking the sheet underneath herself.

Santana was feeling nervous and one hand searched for Brittany's under the sheet while the other pressed against Brittany's lips. "What do you want to talk about Britt?" Her voice was whispered and broken, like cracks across glass. Brittany closed her eyes, and moved her head forwards so that their noses brushed. "Brittany?"

Brittany moved her clenched fist upwards to just under her chin and slowly uncurled her fist, finger by finger until the tape laid exposed on the middle of Brittany's palm. "I haven't played it. I guessed what was on there, that the copy Kurt has stops before he rape you; but I couldn't listen to it." Santana's eyes widened flickering between Brittany's palm and her face before she tried to push Brittany away forcing her face deep into her pillow. "No. No Santana! Don't pull away. Look at me." Santana shook her head, twisting to try and get out from Brittany's arms. Brittany firmly pushed Santana over onto her back, her hand cupping the bottom of her cheek forcing Santana to look upwards, although her eyes were still closed. "Look. At. Me. Santana."

Santana whimpered slightly before her watery eyes reached Brittany's. She bit her lip to attempt to stop more tears falling. "It's okay to cry Sanny. It doesn't make you weak. We need to talk about this though." Santana's chin wobbled and her whole face scrunched like paper balled by a fist before loud sobs broke from her throat and Brittany pulled her tightly against her chest. "It's okay to cry Sanny, it's okay. I love you so much. It's okay." Brittany rocked gently until Santana's sobs turned into soft hiccups and sniffs. She sniffed exaggeratedly before wiping her nose on the back of her hand and looking up at Brittany.

"I'm sorry. I think I got snot on your shirt B." Santana's voice was thick and croaky, but stronger than Brittany expected.

Brittany giggled before pushing Santana's hair behind her ear. "It's okay San, you puked on me when we were seven, and again when we were twelve, and you've narrowly missed me when we've been drunk so many times I've lost count. My shirt can handle a little snot." Santana's cheeks heated at Brittany's words and she brushed away the tear trails in embarrassment. "Why did you keep the tape? Did you listen to it?"

Santana's gaze flickered away from Brittany's face before she answered and Brittany wound her arms around Santana's waist to pull her close. "Yeah. I listened to it. I don't know why I kept it or why I listened to it…"

"Like Bundy." Brittany's gaze was slightly to the right of Santana's head, but she was too drained to figure out what Brittany meant.

"What do you mean Britt?"

"Bundy. Ted Bundy. He kept like photos of his kills." Santana's nose wrinkled in confusion still unsure what Brittany meant. "You kept the tape and you listened to it because you felt you needed to be punished, because you couldn't let yourself forget what happened or how you felt when it happened. Like serial killers keeping souvenirs of their crimes." Santana shrugged, burrowing her head into the space between Brittany's shoulder chin knowing that the discussion wasn't over. "If I give this back to you, will you listen to it again? Are you going to keep punishing yourself with it and not let yourself move on?" Brittany's voice had fallen to a whisper passing through Santana's hair and she pressed a hard, open mouthed kiss to Brittany's clavicle before lifting her head to bump their noses together.

"No. I don't want to listen to that tape ever again. But I don't know if I can destroy it either." Brittany nodded and she started to weave her fingers through Santana's hair. "You really didn't listen to it Brittany?"

"No. I wanted to. Especially when I had no idea what was wrong. It must have fallen out of your pocket when we started having sex and I freaked you. I got as far as putting the tape into the little machine. But I couldn't press play. I wanted to."

"I think I should talk to Amy about what to do with it."

"The therapist?" Santana nodded trailing her fingers along Brittany's jaw and nodded slowly. "That sounds like a good plan. We should probably get ready, I know how you hate to be late." Santana giggled before pushing herself off Brittany and walking towards the bathroom, Brittany watching her quietly.

* * *

><p>They walked out of Santana's house, hands clasped between them. Brittany flexed her fingers experimentally. "San, I know you're worried, but you've kinda stopped the circulation getting to my hand." Santana's eyes widened and she smiled apologetically before loosening her grip and kissing the back of Brittany's hand.<p>

"Sorry Britty. I'm nervous. And I really don't want to talk about it. Like at all." Santana felt a jerk on her arm, and turned around to face Brittany who had stopped walking. She raised her eyebrow questioningly. "What's the matter B?"

Brittany pulled Santana close so that their bodies were flush. "I know you don't want to do this, I understand that you don't, but the fact that you _still _can't _say _what happened proves how important this is. How much you need to rant about this, to someone who isn't important to you, who knows how to help you and how to…how to" Brittany was cut off by moist, shiny lips pressed against her own and a hand pressed against her chest over her heart.

"I know Brittany. And thank you for coming with me. I don't think I could do this without you." Brittany smiled wide and nodded making sure their noses brushed against each other. "Now, how about we get on the road, you know I hate being late, especially for the first of anything." Brittany pressed her lips to Santana's forehead before she nodded and pulled her towards the car, fingers still snuggly entwined.

They had been in the car for twenty minutes and Santana still hadn't said anything. Brittany was happy to let her think, and so concentrated on listening to the gentle static that she could hear through the music and applying gentle pressure to the spaces between Santana's knuckles. They were approaching Dayton when Brittany moved her eyes from their hands to the side of Santana's face.

"Why does this," she pressed harder than normal at Santana's knuckle space "calm you down so much?" Santana glanced down to Brittany's fingers before looking back at the road and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

She shrugged lightly. "I don't know Britty. I think it's because the first time we met you couldn't stop playing with my hands and my fingers."

Brittany's nose scrunched and her head tilted in thought. "Really?" Santana hummed and nodded. "I don't remember that. I remember thinking you looked really cute in your dungarees – which Dollface are really gay, now and then – and that you had a barrette in your hair that was a pink ballet shoe and that you gave it to me. I still have that somewhere. And I remember thinking that your skin looked like chocolate milk, but felt like my mum's really expensive work shirt, and your eyes looked like the coffee my dad drunk when he had to work for long times."

They had stopped at a red light, and Santana was looking at Brittany with an overwhelmed look on her face and a small smile. "You remember all that?" Brittany giggled pressing against Santana's knuckle once more and nodded. "I remember that you were fascinated by how small my hands were and how well they fit in," Santana stopped and laughed breathily, feeling her cheeks heat and her stomach fill with butterflies at the memory. "How well they fit in your hands. And you said that the space between my knuckles was perfect because only your pinkie could fit in the gap and that it meant that we were meant to be best friends and important to one another. It was the first time I had ever felt nervous around someone my own age, but as soon as you started to push against my knuckles…I still felt nervous but…I felt safe." Santana looked back at the rode when the light turned green and Brittany couldn't hide the wide grin and pressed a kiss to Santana's neck.

"I will always do my best to keep you safe. Always." Santana smiled and pulled Brittany's hand to her own lips and the car settled into silence until they pulled into a non-descript car park next to a dull looking white building.

Santana switched off the engine put left the keys in the ignition and her free hand on the wheel while her eyes stared defiantly at the door. "I hated that barrette. Dad bought it for me, I think he thought it might make me interesting in being more feminine, but the first time I wore it I gave it to this pretty little blonde who stole my heart."

Brittany placed gentle kisses along Santana's jaw before pressing her nose into Santana's cheek. "You are such a dork. My dork." She kissed Santana's check and opened the door without shifting her body. "Now, come on, you don't want to be late. And I'm not going to let you tell stories until your appointment time is gone." She patted Santana's thigh and pulled away laughing at her disgruntled expression. "I know you Santana. Better than you do sometimes." Santana sighed and pushed open her own door. Brittany had walked around the front of the car and gripped Santana's hand. She took a deep breath before she led Brittany towards the door, the gravel crunching underneath their feet making Santana wince.

She gripped the brass handle, before looking back at Brittany, who gripped her hand tighter. "Okay. Okay, let's do this."

* * *

><p>AN: Phew! Hope you all enjoyed this :D

Also, if you got my little allusion when they were discussing the outfits for Regionals, I will love you! Haha

Reviews would be very, very, very appreciated!

Thanks everyone.


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: Hi guys! I had a bit of an argument with my laptop when it wiped my hard drive, which is partly why this is so late. Thanks to everyone still reading and thanks so much for the reviews and favourites and alerts :D

So, here we go, the last chapter. It's a little shorter than normal, but I hope it's adequate for everyone and that you enjoy this chapter! Oh also, it changes back into Santana's perspetive, mainly because I wrote that scene first, and trying to change it back into third person didn't work so well, but I hope it's obvious!

This chapter is dedicated to **gleeeeeeeek89**, she has reviewed every chapter (I believe) and has shared rants with me and given me some very supportive, long, lovely reviews…so thanks. Here's to you :D

Thanks again, and reviews would be much appreciated, as ever!

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><p>Brittany bounced on the balls of her feet whilst sitting on the chair in the waiting room. The chair was covered by a scratchy brown cloth that left a pattern on the skin of her palm when she gripped too hard at the seat beneath her knees. Every few seconds she would twist her head from one side of the room to the other. She would see the paintings of non-descript feels with pale flowers and the shadows of people looking out onto sunsets that weren't bright enough to be completely happy. The inoffensive pale paint on the walls and overly enthusiastic motivational posters that reminded Brittany of the pamphlets she and Santana had been given by Miss Pillsbury after Finn opened his big stupid mouth.<p>

She still hadn't forgiven him.

Every time her eyes swept back towards the reception (with the pretty, tall, blonde receptionist that made Santana blush a little when they arrived and Brittany had to smother her laughter, especially when Santana tried to reassure her that she was the only women she wanted) she would stare for several seconds at the certificates and informative posters behind the desk (and the pretty, tall, blonde receptionist that made Santana blush).

Finally she heard the clear click of the door opening and her eyes darted towards it (like those iron flakes in the sealed petri dish Brittany had as a child that she would manipulate by a magnet) and Santana walked through followed by a woman, Amy, with neat dark hair and a dark trouser suit.

She had been crying and Brittany automatically moved towards her, before she stopped herself, freezing awkwardly. Santana still wasn't always comfortable showing affection in front of adults. But Santana moved a second after Brittany did and they were soon tangled together, Santana pressing her nose into Brittany's neck.

"She did really well, Ms Pierce. And it's good to know she has someone there for her." Amy's voice was soothing and confident and she smiled gently at them. "Now, I want you to take a deep breath Santana and go and make the next appointment and I will see you then okay?"

Santana took a deep breath (and Brittany couldn't stop the giggle at the tickling breath against her neck) before she turned around and nodded. "Thanks Amy, I will." She grabbed Brittany's hand before she walked towards the desk (with the pretty, tall, blonde receptionist that made Santana get her phone number wrong and Brittany have to bite her lip to stop embarrassing Santana further).

When they finally got back into the car Brittany couldn't hold in her giggles, which only got worse when Santana tried to explain herself and ended up sulking until Brittany reached forward to kiss and stroke her cheek.

"I'm proud of you Dollface. Now, how about ice cream? Please?"

* * *

><p>It was Valentine's day next week.<p>

It was Valentine's day next week and Santana actually had someone she was in love with to spend it with.

It was Valentine's day next week and Santana had no idea what to do or what to get Brittany to have made all the messy conversations and lies and waiting over the past few years' worth it.

No idea at all.

She sighed and slammed her locker closed harder than she meant to, her body immediately jumping and her left hand rushed to her chest where her heart was beating a hundred miles an hour.

"Jesus Wheezy! For someone so big you sure are creepily silent!" Mercedes smiled smugly and hooked her arm through Santana's. "Um, talking is one thing Wheezy, but touching? No." Santana tried to pull her arm away, but Mercedes was surprisingly strong.

"I wanted to ask your opinion on something, something that from what I've seen, you are an expert in."

Santana stopped them, and twirled her body to face Mercedes. "Okay Aretha, you're either being overly flattering in the incorrect hope that I will help you, or you're lulling me into a false sense of security and are about to insult me. Either way, hurry up."

Mercedes sighed, Santana's willingness to say exactly what she was thinking was the main reason she wanted to talk to her, but it did make broaching things harder. "Well, how did you know you loved Brittany? I mean, you're surrounded by pretty girls, in glee and Cheerios, mostly wearing very little clothing," Santana couldn't stop the smirk at this, and Mercedes nudged her shoulder lightly. "Well, how did you know it was Brittany?" Santana was already half way through a biting remark, until Mercedes' voice softened and her eyes flickered with tears as her hands pulled at the hem of her shirt nervously.

"This is about Trouty Mouth and The Wall isn't it?" When Mercedes didn't answer, Santana sighed and pulled Mercedes towards the locker room. "You know all those bullshit romance movies? And all those sappy clichéd romantic gestures like, opening doors and offering to carry your stuff and, and looking at you when they sing love songs?" Mercedes nodded, slowly, not following where Santana was going. "When someone who does all those things makes your heart beat faster and butterflies in your stomach and makes you feel like you are the only two people in the room or that matter, they are the one that you should pick. And, I don't care what anyone says, only one person at a time will make you feel _all _of those things. Both of them might make you feel some of those things, but not _all _of them." Santana stopped and held Mercedes gaze, waiting for her words to sink it. When Mercedes nodded and smiled gently, Santana squeezed her arm before turning towards the door. "Oh, and Wheezy, if you tell anyone, and I mean anyone, about this conversation, I don't care how good you sound, I'm never singing with you again. Understand me?"

Mercedes couldn't help the automatic eye roll and laugh that bounced around the empty locker room. "Yeah Satan, I understand, thanks." Santana didn't turn, just snorted and waved her hand in farewell. "And Santana? Brittany will love whatever you get her, however clichéd or sappy. In fact, knowing Brittany she will probably like it _more _if it's really clichéd and sappy." Santana laughed before she pushed through the door and back into the corridor.

* * *

><p>Santana had no idea there were so many different types of stuffed ducks.<p>

Like literally, hundreds.

Ones with sparkles, ones that were so real looking it was creepy, ones that were so un-real that they looked like they were designed by toddles on acid, ones that were so brightly coloured it made her eyes hurt and ones that were so dull she wondered what kid would want one.

She walked up and down the aisles repeatedly, picked up a duck that was perfect, before she found one she thought was more perfect and switched, until she would walk further down and find another one that was even more perfect. She let out a frustrated huff before turning once more and colliding into a solid body.

"Looking for something for Brittany?"

"Sammy." Santana crossed her arms and tried to glare at him, but he continued to smile at her gently and she sighed. "Yes. Who knew that someone above is out to punish me by having a ridiculous amount of stuffed ducks to pick from."

Sam couldn't help smile, and punched her shoulder gently. "Well, which one did you pick up first? You know her best, so your instinctual reaction is the one you want."

"That's idiotic. You have to think about important things like presents. You can't just take the first one your lay your hands on." Santana huffed.

"Santana, which one did you pick up first." She sighed dramatically again before she stormed off down to the end and aggressively grabbing a duck at the back of the bottom shelf, then glared at it before holding it out to Sam.

He laughed before walking down to take the duck. It was small, it could fit easily in the palm of his hand, covered in soft, dark yellow fur and a black too-small top hat tilted on the side of it's head. It was wearing a black dinner jacket and silver tap shoes with pink hearts on the toes. He heard Santana mumble something, then frowned and shook his head to indicate he didn't understand her.

Santana sighed, kicking the bottom of the shelf before she crossed her arms over her chest again. "They…you can get them to…like, stich on your initials on the tap shoes." Sam looked at her surprised she knew that, causing Santana to roll her eyes at him. "It's written on the tag Guppy." He nodded before passing the small duck between his hands a few times.

"She'll love it. But make sure you get the shoes –"

"Tap shoes." Santana interrupted before she could stop herself.

"Sorry, _tap _shoes initialled with both of your initials. She'll love it Santana." She huffed before she punched him, throwing a muttered 'whatever' over her shoulder before she walked away. Then suddenly she turned and brusquely marched back, gently picked the duck from his hands and walked towards the cash registers, Sam smiling after her.

* * *

><p>They were driving back from Santana's second session with Amy, Brittany driving whilst Santana idly played with her free hand. "Brittany?" Santana's voice was soft, hesitant.<p>

"Yeah San?"

"If I…if I wanted, needed, wanted to destroy the…_tape _would you help me?" Santana's grip tightened and she swallowed audibly. "I mean, without listening to it or anything, just, destroy it, completely get rid of it."

"Of course I would. I would do it _for _you if I could."

"No, I need to do that myself."

"I know Dollface, I know. But, um, what about if we needed proof?" Santana's jaw snapped closed and Brittany saw the tendons emphasised on her neck. "I mean, like if we tell the police?"

"I'm not doing that Brittany. I can't. There is no point anyway, it's been too long, no one is going to think that I was really…that I was actually, raped." Her free hand was clenched in a tight fist and the fingers between Brittany's own slackened and pulled away slightly.

"That's why we would need the tape. Proof." Brittany was trying not to become frustrated, but her normal tactile reactions were limited whilst in a car that she was driving, and she was finding it difficult to explain without further upsetting Santana. "Like in the movies, they always keep proof, and then they can't be argued with." Santana sighed angrily before she pulled her hand away from Brittany's and folded her hands over her chest.

"I don't want to talk about this Brittany. I'm _not _going to the police, and I'm going to destroy the tape. If you don't want to help me that's fine. I don't need you to." Santana's voice was thick with unshed tears and she refused to meet Brittany's eyes, staring out of the window instead.

"No, Santana, I want to help you, I will. It's just –" Brittany sighed and scratched her nose before she took a deep breath, carefully thinking through exactly what she wanted to say. "What does Amy think about destroying the tape?"

Santana stayed silent for several seconds before she shrugged. She quickly glanced towards Brittany, before returning to look back out of the window. "She thinks it's a good idea. Cathartic."

"Ew." Brittany wrinkled her nose. "My granddad had to have that in hospital. I can guarantee that won't make you feel better." Brittany's attempt at humour worked, and the tension in the car melted away as Santana giggled softly before she extended her hand back towards where Brittany's still laid.

"Not a catheter Britty, cathartic. Therapeutic. Calming. Zen. She thinks it's a good idea." Brittany took her hand and squeezed gently. "Plus, Amy made a copy at our first session." Santana shrugged nonchalantly with one shoulder before smirking.

Brittany sighed. "Why didn't you tell me that at the beginning when I asked about the police?"

Santana tensed slightly, but didn't take her hand back. "Because it doesn't matter. I really, _really _don't want to tell them. Okay? Please Britt."

Brittany let the words settle in the car before she bit at her tongue in acceptance. "We could, make a ritual of it?"

Santana's face scrunched and she tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean a ritual?" Brittany smiled and stroked her fingers along the underside of Santana's hand.

"I mean, like, when your mum's great aunt died? And we had like candles and prayers to move on and like a moment of quiet to make sure her soul had left or something? We could do something like that, to…to help you move on and…and…you know, not let it affect Now Santana. Or Soon-To-Be Santana." Brittany was focused on the road, afraid to look at Santana and unsettle her, and so when Santana stayed silent for several seconds, Brittany was worried. She glanced quickly towards Santana and was shocked to see Santana crying. "Oh Santana, I'm sorry, it's too soon. I didn't mean to upset you, it's too soon."

"No, no, Brittany. It's a good idea. A really good idea. Thank you."

"But only when you're ready. There is no point in rushing it. And I don't want you to get upset."

"I'm not upset B, it's just, _talking _about everything, it's a little, I'm a little overwhelmed. Promise. It's a really good idea." Brittany nodded and smiled before she pulled Santana's hand towards her lips, then settled it into her lap.

* * *

><p>Two days later, they were sitting on Santana's floor, legs crossed, knees touching and the small tape in between them. Brittany lit the tall, thin, white candle and placed it on a saucer with a shallow layer of water.<p>

"Fire for purging, water for baptising aaaand," She smiled and wiggled her eyebrows before pulling something from behind her back. "An Almond Joy and a box of Dots 'cos umm…"

"Eucharist. The food for the Eucharist." Santana's voice was scratchy but firm and she couldn't help but smile, even as she gripped Brittany's hand tightly. Brittany smiled back and nodded.

"Right. Are you sure you're ready to do this?" Santana let out a loud shuddering breath, then nodded once firmly. "Okay, purge-y, flame-y candle, baptising, if minimal, water and yummy Eucharist. Whenever you're ready. I'll wait. Although, if you take too long, I'll need to go and find another candle."

Santana nodded, the corners of her mouth pulling into a smile and glanced up towards Brittany's face, then lent forward to kiss her softly, noses bumping before she returned her eyes to the tape.

Brittany had no idea how long they sat there for, but the candle was a least half as small before Santana reached out her hand.

As soon as Santana's fingers closed around the warming plastic, she felt nauseous and a bubble of shame, until Brittany's gentle, encouraging murmurings popped it and she gripped the tape a little tighter.

The candle was now only the height of Brittany's pinkie (which, afterwards, she thought was highly appropriate, given how important they were in their relationship) before Santana pulled her other hand from Brittany's and dug her nail into the small gap at the bottom of the tape to tease out the polymer reel. She started pulling gently at the reel, but she was soon twisting and pulling and gripping so tightly that her knuckles had turned white and her hand muscles spasmed and ached from being so tense. The last of the reel came away with an understated snap, and she held it above the candle (Brittany didn't notice the candle this time, she was looking too hard at Santana) letting the flame catch and lick up the polymer. An acrid smell filled her room and she was suddenly aware of loud, angry sobs, and Brittany's strong, sure fingers stroking away tears from her face. Santana didn't look away from the candle until the flame had reached her fingers, and she dropped the last few millimetres of the reel into the puddle of water and wax in the saucer. She lifted her eyes to Brittany, before she half fell half was dragged into her lap, familiar, long arms encircling her and light kisses pressed to her hair.

Brittany saw the last of the wax melt and the wick reach the water, causing the flame to splutter and die, dimming the room, but all she cared about was the woman curled into her lap and her tears soaking into Brittany's shirt. Slowly, Santana's tears dried and she slowly straightened her body, bringing their faces together and her hand upwards to press and stroke along Brittany's jaw. "Thank you, so much Britt." Brittany nodded softly, making sure her jaw was still pressed against Santana's fingers. "For everything, for being there even when I was trying my best to shut you out, again, and for waiting and listening and standing up for me. For everything."

Brittany let out a surprised laugh, thick with tears, before she pulled Santana closer to her. "Anytime. Anything."

* * *

><p>Santana couldn't believe how stupid she had been, thinking that The God Squad would sing a song for Brittany as her girlfriend. Then she couldn't believe how stupid she had been, thinking that The God Squad (who did, after all, apprise of Quinn, Mercedes and Sam) wouldn't sing a song for Brittany as her girlfriend. Until she would get nervous all over again, pull at the bottom of her dress, then pull at the top of her dress and then couldn't believe how stupid she had been, thinking that The God Squad would sing a song for Brittany as her girlfriend. She was still flicking between those two thoughts (her heart pounding, thumping, in her chest as the seconds and minutes ticked by and they still hadn't sung for Brittany whilst Brittany feed her chocolates and was a perfect gentlewoman) when she heard Joe's voice and her heart froze in anticipation.<p>

It wasn't until the music began and Brittany looked at her with such wonder and tenderness that Santana's heart kick-started, beating impossibly fast. She watched Brittany throughout the song, her gaze only pulled away when Quinn and Mercedes came over. She couldn't help but smile at their gentle flirting (Brittany loved to be flirting, innocent or not, she liked making people feel special and it made her feel special in return) and when Brittany dragged her onto the dance floor she didn't argue, and later left herself completely vulnerable, waiting for Brittany to connect the kiss.

The stuffed duck was waiting (with an added pink ribbon and bow around it's neck) on Santana's passenger seat, and Brittany reverently picked it up before she traced her fingers gently over the '_SL_' and'_BP_' in pale purple, silver flecked thread. Santana watched what little she could see of Brittany whilst she pulled at her fingers nervously and kicked the back of her right foot with her left toe.

"So, do you like it?" Her voice was soft and unsure, and Brittany's smile softened, turning towards Santana.

"I thought the rose and the song and the kiss were my presents? More than enough presents?" Santana shrugged, she liked getting things for Brittany, whatever the occasion. "I love it. Does it have a name? Wait, is it a boy or a girl? Or has it not decided yet? What do you think San?" Brittany started to bounce on the balls of her feet, lifting the ducks wings, then lifting each tap shoe covered webbed feet before pressing her finger to it's beak.

"I um…don't know Britt. Have you looked on the tag?" Brittany lifted her eyebrow at Santana's smirk before she tugged gently at the tag so she could read it, twisting it towards the puddle of light from the nearby streetlamp.

"_**Hi:**__ Mummy B_

_**My name is:**__ Capezio._

_**Happy Valentine's Day**_

_**From:**__ Mami S_

_I love you so much B and I'm so privileged to have you in my life, let alone as my girlfriend Sanny xoxo_"

Brittany's mouth moved as she read over the standard words of the tag, filed in with Santana's familiar script, before she reached the bottom and her jaw slackened in surprise. She glanced between Santana and the tag before pulling her towards her and kissing her again.

"You, Santana Lopez, are such a dork."

Santana giggled and wound her arms around Brittany's waist. "I am not a dork! Why am I dork?" Santana tried to sound indignant, but the feel of Brittany's skin on her own and the exhilaration of being so public intimate made her voice waver and break slightly.

"Mummy B and Mami S?" Brittany raised an eyebrow and scrunched her nose.

"Yeah, well, it's an abandoned baby duck –"

"Duckling Sanny."

"Right, abandoned duckling, and it needed a mum. Or two."

"Hm. What about Capezio then?" Brittany titled her head before pulling Santana closer and pressing her thumbs gently at Santana's hips.

"What? They were your favourite tap shoes, your first _proper _tap shoes. The baby duck –"

"Duckling."

"_Duckling,_ has tap shoes on." Santana flicked gently at the tap shoe as if to prove her point and pouted slightly. "See, I'm practical, not a dork." Brittany giggled before she pushed at Santana's lip.

"They were only my favourite because I thought they were Spanish speaking, like you when you get mad, and you were pretty, and they made the prettiest sound. Clear and sharp and sure, like when you sang if you thought no one was listening. So. They were my favourite." Brittany shrugged.

"I know. Dork." Brittany opened her mouth to argue, but was stopped when Santana pushed her against the side of the car and kissed her.

* * *

><p>It had become routine each week on a Wednesday and Friday to drive to Dayton, singing along to the radio and playing with each other's fingers absentmindedly. The singing would stop once they pulled into their usual parking space (Santana likes routine, even if she wasn't driving Brittany knew how important parking in the same space was) and Santana's grip would tighten slightly before Brittany would detangle their fingers, get out of the car moving around to Santana's side before opening her door and kneeling down.<p>

Every time was the same, Brittany would open the door and kneel down until their faces were level and she would wait.

Silently.

Occasionally pressing a kiss to the side of Santana's cheek or her temple or her shoulder, until Santana would close her eyes and nodding once firmly. Then Brittany would straighten up and hold her hand out to Santana, who would take it gently before getting out of the car and leading Brittany towards the door of the office.

After the first three or four sessions, Brittany had been asked to join Santana. At first she would just sit and observe, holding Santana's hand or resting her hand on her thigh or walking her fingers gently up and down Santana's arms. She liked listening to Santana talking so freely, and being able to touch her so intimately in front of, not only an adult, but an adult that they didn't know, made her heartbeat speed up and her stomach flip excitedly.

Soon Amy started asking Brittany questions, noticing the way Santana never interrupted her, never belittled or patronised her and made herself utterly physically and emotionally vulnerable to Brittany. At first, Brittany's answers were tentative, she didn't want Santana to feel worse about her instinctive behaviour shortly after the attack. But Amy could tell when she wasn't telling everything (Brittany found that a little unnerving) and Santana knew that she wasn't, so she would nudge Brittany's shoulder with her own and tilt her head towards Amy until Brittany would sigh and answer the question again, honestly.

They were nearing the end of the latest session, which had fallen into a comfortable silence, when Amy cleared her throat and put her notes to the side.

"Santana, I want to return to the issue of telling the police. Any I want to know what Brittany thinks about this." Amy looked towards Brittany before she smiled and extended her arm. "So Brittany, can you go first? What do you think about telling the police about Santana's rape?"

Brittany looked nervously towards Santana, before she cleared her throat and looked back at Amy. "I wanted her to tell them." Her voice was small and unsure, but feeling Santana shuffle closer encouraged her. "I thought she should tell them, although I didn't know how to tell her that, and I thought getting her to someone like you was more important. So it wasn't until a bit later that I asked her about it, and we…we got into a fight."

Amy nodded. "Santana told me about that. She also said that you were incredibly understanding about her reason not to go."

Brittany nodded once. "Well, when I almost got raped at Cheer camp, Santana and our friend Quinn tried to get me to tell the police then, but, nobody believed me at school or the camp. And I didn't want to tell some strange guy about it. So I understand why she doesn't, but I still want her to do so."

Amy nodded before she turned and looked at Santana. "And, have you changed your mind about telling the police? Or anyone other than your girlfriend, friends and myself?"

Santana shook her head before she cleared her throat and leant against Brittany. "No. I don't see the point. It's been ages. And I don't exactly have…" She sighed. "Most people think I've slept with loads of guys, even though I haven't, I just let them say I had, and I've never been faithful –"

"Except with me." Brittany couldn't help interrupting, or the corresponding smile that widened and her cheeks heated at Amy's soft look.

"Except with Brittany. And he, sorry, Sebastian, is gay. Like really gay."

Brittany nodded in agreement. "Gayer than you at a golf course." Brittany whispered, not loud enough for Amy to hear clearly, but enough for Santana to hear her and smile.

"Okay, so if the obstacle, of your perceived disbelief, wasn't there, would you tell the police?" Amy's voice was soft and calming, but Santana couldn't hold her gaze.

Santana sighed before she shook her head. "No."

* * *

><p>They were curled up in the same scratchy, uncomfortable hospital chair when Quinn's slightly broken voice broke their staring. "Well, that's always nice to wake up to."<p>

Brittany's eyes widened comically, and she leapt from Santana's lap, only to snap her body still before she pulled Quinn into a crushing hug that would hurt her. "Oh Quinn! You're awake! I was so scared. And Santana. And I'm so glad, when the doctors said you would be okay, I couldn't believe them until you were awake. I'm so, so glad." She felt Santana's hand gently press into her back and lean against her, before Brittany pulled Quinn's hand into her own and perching on the edge of the bed.

Santana smiled before linking all their fingers together and squeezed. "I'm happy you're awake Quinn. Brittany would hate it if the Unholy Trinity couldn't graduate together." Quinn laughed lightly before Brittany pulled Santana into her lap and started planning the first Unholy Trinity Hospital Night.

* * *

><p>The first time Britt and I had sex, no, the first time Britt and I <em>made love <em>after the attack was…magical. She was perfect. I mean, she always is, but this time was like all those stupid romantic films and every Disney film and every boring mushy love story all rolled into one.

And like ten times more intense.

We had been at the hospital for what felt like forever, where Brittany mostly steered the conversation, before Quinn's doctor came around and shooed us out. She promised we could come back tomorrow, but for now Quinn needed rest. Brittany nodded in understanding, agreeing before I could begin to argue or threaten them with my parents wrath (Brittany had seen both Doctor Lopez's angry and it was one of the scariest moments of her life. Coming second only to seeing Santana break down in the locker room after her rape) and she pulled me out into the quiet corridor.

"Britt?" I sat onto one of the plastic chairs tugging Brittany after me. "I wanted to say how amazing you've been, what with Quinn and everything. And being so patient with me."

"Of course Dollface."

"And thanks for coming to my sessions with Amy, and for, forcing me to go in the first place." Brittany smiled gently and nodded in understanding. "You were right, you know. It has…helped. A lot." Brittany nodded again before she poked at my check gently.

"I'm really glad. I know that we've still got some things to sort out, and get past and discuss, and I can't wait to _show_ you how much I care about you. Not that I'm trying to rush you, 'cos I can wait as long as you need. I just wanted to let you know that I still want you like that, but I don't want to rush you. And I know that just because Amy has helped it doesn't mean that everything is –"

I kissed her gently before bumping our noses together. She was adorable when she rambled, especially when she could feel herself getting lost and tried to further explain. "Thanks B."

Brittany cupped my cheek before smiling bashfully and blushing red. She really was adorable. "Thank God. That completely got away from me. I just meant, that my feelings towards you haven't changed, and won't change. I love you."

"I love you too Britty." Her thumb brushed along my cheek again and I could feel myself relax and loosen. I no longer wanted to be there. "Shall we go?" Brittany nodded enthusiastically before she pulled me up and out of the hospital.

* * *

><p>We pulled up outside Brittany's house and she fiddled nervously with the small motorbike key chain and glancing between my face and her lap.<p>

"My parents are away tonight, and my sisters at a sleepover. I thought we could spend tonight together. Only if you want to. No pressure, we can just sleep."

I had already been thinking about asking to stay with her. The shock of the call about Quinn made me further appreciate Brittany and how important she was to me. I nodded slowly before kissing her hand and opening the car door, waiting for her to lead the way.

The room was filled with candles, their flames flickering, dancing, moving with the gentle movements of air in the room. But it didn't make the room seam shadowy and threatening, instead it made everything soft and calming. The whole room was a warm dark purple caress, with bits of pink where the candles highlighted the colour of her curtains.

She turned us, so that we were facing each other, the bed behind me, and moved her hands from my hairline, over my cheeks, to my shoulders then trailed down to my hands.

"You're so beautiful. So very beautiful Santana." It was whispered near my forehead, followed by her lips pressing against the palms of my hands, then a kiss on each finger tip.

The inside of each wrist.

The crook of each elbow.

The freckle on my shoulder.

With each gentle connection between us, I felt safer and calmer and a sigh escaped. She gently pushed at my shoulders, causing me to walk backwards towards the bed while still keeping as much of our bodies connected as possible.

"So beautiful. So important. My Sanny." She kissed all along my hairline in-between whispered words, and my hands moved to hold onto her hips, my eyes slipped closed in contentment. "Tell me if you need me to stop. Anytime, just say okay San?" I nodded slightly with my eyes still closed, I didn't want to look at anything yet, I wanted to smell enough of her scent as possible.

Citrus.

Lavender.

That clean, indescribable soap smell that's always described as 'cotton' even though I've never known cotton to smell like it.

I felt the backs of my legs touch the edge of the bed, but she didn't move me to sit down. She moved her hand upwards to cup my cheek and I leaned towards her, almost snuggling into the support she offered. Gentle pressure on each of my closed eye lids, soft and wet and slightly rough lips.

"Open your eyes Sanny." I still didn't want to. It was so intense to learn about her, one sense at a time. "Santana. Open." Firmer this time, but still gentle, my full name causing my eyelids to lazily lift. "Promise me, if you need me to stop, you will tell me. Please. Promise." I touched my lips to the bottom of her chin.

"I promise Britt." She nodded and pressed her hips into mine until I lowered onto the bed. She smiled slightly and lifted her shirt over her head.

"I love you Santana Lopez." Another kiss to my temple and her hands tugged at the bottom of my tank top. "Can I take this off? Or do you want to keep it on? I don't mind. We can blow some candles out? Whatever you're more comfort-" All her questions came out in a rush. She was nervous and I couldn't help the smile at the corners of my mouth and I placed my hands over hers and pulled them upwards, her finger tips still twisted in the bottom of my tank top.

"Off." I whispered it, voice was already becoming hoarse. The rest of our clothes were removed piece by piece.

Slowly, as Brittany kissed each area of new skin available to her.

"Sanny you're crying again." Her thumb brushed against the tears falling down one cheek whilst her mouth removed the drops on the other cheek. "I can stop if you want. Sanny. I can stop."

"No! No Britt." I could feel more tears falling as I pulled her closer, my face turning to search out her lips. We missed, completely, but that didn't matter. "Happy tears Britt I promise. Don't stop please. I…everything is so…intense. It's overwhelming. But happy tears. Happy." My hips shifted beneath her and she smiled before she brushed the tips of our noses together and kissed me, lips hardly touching before doing it again and her arm began to move again.

She kissed slowly, hot and open mouthed, towards my chest, tongue trailed along the edges of my lace bra. A gentle bite to the top my left breast caused me to gasp and automatically lift my hips towards her. She brushed her nose along my stomach, occasionally pressing her lips against the skin. Her hands shifted up my legs and her fingers hooked into the top of my sweats.

Another kiss at the top of the waistband.

"Are you sure?"

My breath was coming out in heavy pants and, the hand not gripping the sheet, tangled in Brittany's hair. "If you don't Britt I swear I'm gonna have to finish it myself. Please." Brittany laughed breathily before she tugged and pulled off the sweats in one fluid motion, then pushed her own sweats off her hips and wiggled to make them puddle at her feet. She looked down at me, and I could feel my cheeks flushed, and I gripped bottom lip between my teeth in anticipation, chest heaving, fingers and toes curled and couldn't stop her jaw slacken in wonder.

"Wow." The word was whispered, but in the silent room, it was all I could hear. "You are…breath-taking Santana. So very breath-taking." Brittany's voice was hoarse and thick, and I shifted her body back before sitting up and holding out my arm.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you Britt. Nowhere near." Brittany blushed and turned her head before she smiled and took my hand, who tugged her down until our bodies were once more flush together. I pulled my fingers through Brittany's hair before softly tracing her hair line. "No one is as my beautiful as my Brittany."

* * *

><p>AN: That's it guys. I know it didn't perfectly wrap everything up, but life rarely wraps everything up perfectly. Also, I did have a slightly different ending planned, I had done loads of research for it…and then my hard drive wiped itself, and what with preparing for my exams (which start in a fortnight and will determine weather or not I get into university) I couldn't quite bring myself to do aaaall that research again. So I scrapped that idea. It wasn't particularly important, it just brought Sebastian back into the story and had a bit more of the therapy side of things. I may go back after my exams and add it in, but to be honest, it wouldn't add too much, so I probably won't.

Any reviews would be much appreciated as ever!

I hope you all liked this, and thank you so much for staying until the end. I really appreciated all of the reviews and alerts and favourites, and those that just read! :D

If anyone has anything they would like me to write, send me a prompt. Thanks again everyone!


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